The Adventures of LoftyBalloon and CanToi
by Tenukii
Summary: A compilation of writings about my PMD-E OCs: Poof the Drifloon, his partner Schreber the Sigilyph, and the surly loner Damane the Sigilyph. These cover some of the tasks for June-August 2103. Jury features prominently in Damane's stories.
1. Chapter 1

**PMD-E Team Lofty Balloon June Tasks - Interview with Jury**

"This must be the courthouse!" squeaked Poof the Drifloon as he and Schreber approached a columned wooden building on the north side of Gambitville.

"I guess so. It's the most important-looking building in town. . . except for that creepy well." Poof's Sigilyph partner smoothed out his feathers nervously. "I hope this interview is short. The mayor sounds scary!"

Poof had to admit that Schreber was right- Mayor Jury _did_ sound scary from what the townspeople had said about him. Still, the Drifloon tried to keep his usual cheerful outlook.

"Oh, we don't have anything to worry about! Marshal Andy said that we would pass the interview as long as we weren't criminals, and neither one of us has done anything bad." Poof reached out a string to hold Schreber's three-fingered hand, then he gently tugged his friend toward the courthouse.

The two round Pokémon flew up to the building, and Schreber pushed open the double doors that went inside. A narrow foyer led inward, and as they flew along it, Schreber's feathers kicked up the dust that coated every surface. Poof felt a distinct tingling in the yellow X on his face.

"Ah- ahhh- ahhhhh- POOF!" he sneezed, covering his X with a puffy hand. "Oh, excuse me!"

Another set of doors at the end of the foyer apparently opened on the courtroom itself. Schreber pushed on one of these and peered around it with his antenna.

"Oh Poof, he _is_ scary!" the Sigilyph whispered. Poof flew up behind him and gave him a gentle nudge.

"Come on, it won't be that bad."

Schreber made a nervous twittering sound and flew through the door. Poof followed him. . . and echoed the twitter with a squeak of his own when he saw Mayor Jury.

Jury was a Spiritomb, and he was _very_ scary. Being a ghost type, Poof was used to Spiritombs, but there was something different about Jury, something more. . . vivid. Part of it was his color: although Jury's edges were the usual violet found on most ghost types, the inner part of his energy cloud was a fiery red. It was even redder than the stripes on Schreber's feathers! Orbs of green energy moved around the Spiritomb's circular body. Mayor Jury's eyes glowed a yellowish-green color, and the right one had a spiral in the middle. The Spiritomb's jagged mouth was slightly opened, making him look a little like a red Jack O'Lantern. . . only not so friendly.

Schreber hung back near the door, but Poof made himself drift forward. "M-mayor Jury? We. . . we've come for our interview."

"And who are you, little one?" The Spiritomb's voice was low, but it was still creepy; it sounded like a bunch of Pokémon talking all at once.

"I'm. . . I'm Poof, and this is my teammate Schreber. We're Team Lofty Balloon of the Rescuers Guild."

"I see. And you two wish to help Gambitville by performing tasks for me?"

"Y-yes. . . yes sir!" Poof straightened himself up in the air and puffed up a little. Jury didn't seem to be as mean as his reputation suggested. Maybe he was just very stern, like some of the elder Drifblims Poof knew. The Drifloon looked back at Schreber and gestured the Sigilyph forward with a string.

"Before you can accept any tasks, I must know: have either of you performed any criminal acts?" Jury boomed. "We do not abide criminals in Gambitville."

Schreber chirped in fright and clutched at Poof's string. Poof held his hand tightly but kept his squeaky voice firm as he answered Jury.

"No sir, neither of us has ever done anything like that."

"Not even in your work as Rescuers?" Jury narrowed his glowing eyes at the team.

"Actually, this is our very first task. We just joined the guild a few days ago!" Poof explained.

"And you came to Gambitville? Hmm." The Spiritomb closed his eyes and fell silent. Poof and Schreber looked at each other, and Poof wondered if he had said something wrong. But when Jury opened his eyes again, he said, "You both must be very dedicated. If you are new to your guild, what skills do you have that can aid us here?"

"I know Ominous Wind, Shadow Ball, Hypnosis, and Body Slam!" Poof said proudly.

"Those are strong moves for a young Drifloon," Jury told him, "but they don't really fit with the work we have for you. . . although Body Slam might be useful in moving bricks." Poof deflated a little; he had worked hard to learn his moves. Still, he tried not to let his disappointment show.

"What about you, Schreber?" Jury's eyes shifted to the Sigilyph and gave him a long look. "I interviewed another Sigilyph yesterday. He was very strong but not so young as you."

"I'm. . . I'm not strong at all, sir," Schreber murmured. "My only attack move is Psychic."

"But you have other moves?"

"Cosmic Power, Calm Mind, and Roost." The Sigilyph lowered all three of his eyes to the floor, and Poof gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. He knew Schreber was a little embarrassed to have focused on self-protection moves, but the Drifloon was glad to know that his friend could keep himself safe.

"Oh. I see. I do appreciate your honesty." Jury turned his eyes back to Poof. "Why do you two wish to help us in Gambitville? What are your intentions?"

"Well, sir, we're Rescuers," Poof offered. "We thought our first job should be helping other Pokémon. . . and it sounded like you guys really needed some help."

"And- and I grew up in a desert area." Schreber clutched Poof's heart-shaped hand more tightly as he spoke. "I can take care of Poof. . . ."

"Ah. Your intentions sound admirable enough. However, there is one more step to your interview. You first, Poof." Jury gave Poof a close look.

"Yes, sir. . . ?" Poof looked back at the Spiritomb, then he gave a curious squeak when he saw two of Jury's green orbs glow brighter. Suddenly, they darted away from Jury- and flew right to Poof! The Drifloon's eyes were dazzled by the light, but somehow he couldn't close them.

"Poof? _Poof!_" cried Schreber, flapping his wings frantically. Poof tried to reassure his friend that he was okay, but he was too confused to speak. It felt like Jury was in his mind, not exactly reading it but actually _looking around_ in there. Poof could still see Schreber and was aware of his surroundings, but they all seemed to be part of a dream. What was in his mind seemed more real.

"Poooooooof!" Schreber wailed. Poof twitched his strings but was distracted by the thoughts flying through his round purple head. He had heard of Pokémon "seeing their lives flash before their eyes"- and now he was experiencing the same thing. Memory after memory passed by Poof's mind, from meeting Schreber to leaving home and his mother.

And then it was over, as quickly as it had started. Poof could almost physically feel Jury withdraw from his mind, and when the Drifloon could see again, the green orbs were floating back to the Spiritomb.

What's more, Schreber was hovering over Jury, beating the Spiritomb with his wings.

"Stop it, you monster! Let Poof go! Stop iiiiiit!" he cried.

"Schreber, Schreber!" Poof squeaked. "It's okay, I'm fine!" He darted over to his friend and pulled the Sigilyph away from Jury. Once they were several yards away, Poof cast a fearful look at Jury. Of course Schreber hadn't hurt the powerful Spiritomb in the least, but Poof was terrified that Jury would retaliate against Schreber anyway.

"Please sir," the Drifloon squeaked, "he- he was only worried about me. He didn't mean to attack you!"

The Spiritomb glowed an even brighter red before- and then to Poof's amazement, his jagged mouth curved in a faint smile.

"I know, little one. The devotion you two show to one another is admirable. I believe it will serve you well here in Gambitville. . . and throughout your journeys." Jury turned back to Schreber, who was still holding Poof in his hands. "What I did was read your friend's memories, to be sure that he really had committed no criminal behavior. I now must do the same to you, and then your interview will be over."

Schreber made a whimpering noise, and Poof wrapped a string around him, trying to reassure him.

"Don't worry, Schreber, it doesn't hurt at all! I'll be right here. . . ."

"O-okay, Poof," Schreber murmured. He squeezed Poof a little more tightly then looked up at Jury. "I'm, I'm ready. . . ."

As Poof watched, Jury extended more orbs, three this time, towards Schreber's face. One orb hovered in front of his antenna eye and the other two before his lower eyes. Then, suddenly, all three orbs passed into the Sigilyph through his eyes.

Poof had to bite back a nervous squeak; it _did_ look creepy to see the green glow coming from his friend's eyes. But soon enough, Jury's orbs withdrew, and Schreber was himself again.

"It. . . it wasn't so bad," the Sigilyph said, probably more to make Poof feel better than anything.

Poof smiled at him then looked back at Jury. "Did we pass, Mayor Jury?"

"Yes, both of you have passed your interview." Jury bobbed in the air as if nodding. "Congratulations- you may proceed with the task of your choice."

"Thank you, sir." Poof bobbed back in response, and Schreber echoed the motion. Then the Sigilyph turned and headed for the door with a hasty flap of his wings, tugging Poof after him. Schreber didn't stop until they were through the foyer and outside the courthouse all together, back out into the bright sun of Gambitville.

"Poof, that was scary!" Schreber hugged the Drifloon tightly. "It's like he could see everything I remembered!"

"I think he could. . . ." Poof gave an encouraging squeak and smiled up at Schreber. "But don't worry! It's all over now- we passed! Now we can start our very first task."

"You're right. . . ." Schreber managed a smile and fluffed up his feathers a bit. "Let's go find Marshal Andy and find out how we can help!"


	2. Chapter 2

**PMD-E Team CanToi June Tasks - Interview with Jury**

Damane stopped outside the courthouse, hovering in the air with the help of his weathered wings. Gambitville was about what he had expected: dusty, dry, hot. . . all things that, being a Sigilyph, he was used to.

However, he wasn't sure _what_ to expect once he entered the courthouse. Damane had come to Gambitville because he heard they were looking for help. . . in exchange for rewards. Yet upon Damane's arrive, Andy, a Golurk town Marshal, had informed him that he must pass an interview before he began.

For a misanpoke like Damane, hell was other Pokémon, especially ones who asked lots of questions. Nevertheless, he was intrigued by Andy's glowing description of the interviewer. This Pokémon was named Jury, and Andy described him as the mayor of Gambitville. . . and the prosecutor, and the judge, and, probably, the jury as his name implied. Despite Andy's high praise, Damane doubted that this Jury was very ethical- "power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely" as the cliché went- but. . . .

_That's not my problem. It's not my town, and he can run it however he likes._ Damane had decided he could put up with taking orders in exchange for some rewards. . . and, secretly, he wanted to see just what kind of Pokémon could take and keep complete control of a whole town.

The sun was already setting; Damane gave it a sideways look out of his antenna eye. _Better get this over with, so I can start on my tasks in the morning._ The threadbare Sigilyph fluttered forward and pushed open the wooden double doors to the courthouse.

They led into a foyer, as dusty as the town outside and almost as hot. Damane's dangling tail feathers left a clean trail of hardwood in the layer of dust on the floor as he flew towards a second set of doors ahead of him. He paused at these to straighten the torn blue scarf he wore tied around the base of his antenna, then he opened one door and entered the courtroom.

It was as sandy and dirty as the foyer, but Damane didn't spend too much time looking around: all three of the Sigilyph's eyes were drawn up to the Pokémon at the judge's bench at the front of the room.

Jury was a Spiritomb, yet he was unlike any Spiritomb Damane had seen before. His Odd Keystone rested on the bench and from it a cloud of energy flowed up into the air. It was the color of this energy that so struck Damane: Jury's "body" was a vivid red fringed by purple with a cloud of green orbs surrounding it. Two yellow-green eyes, one marked by a dizzy spiral, stared down at Damane.

The two Pokémon looked at one another a moment, Damane waiting to be addressed. When Jury said nothing, the Sigilyph finally spoke.

"I was told I need to have an interview with you."

The Spiritomb remained silent, but his glowing eyes moved over Damane. The Sigilyph bristled, his feathers fluffing up a bit, especially when Jury's eyes rested on his scarred antenna. Finally, Jury's gaze moved back to Damane's face, and he spoke, opening his jagged mouth to reveal a yellow glow from within.

"What is your name?" His voice was deep with an almost buzzing quality, like multiple voices speaking together in unison.

"I am Damane. . . Team CanToi."

"Your guild?"

"I am a Rogue."

"Hmm. . . Rogue." Jury closed his eyes. "Then you are likely a criminal. You dare apply to me?"

Damane's own pale blue eyes narrowed in a glare. "I am not a criminal. I merely wish to perform the tasks you have assigned."

Jury opened one eye again, the one with the spiral. Its gaze met that of Damane's antenna. "Why?"

Damane paused. He had no brave, altruistic reason for helping Gambitville, and perhaps the Spiritomb wouldn't approve of that. But then Damane remembered something Andy had said: "And don't try to lie to Jury! In his glorious wisdom, he would _know_." Whether or not Jury would know, Damane decided that it was good advice. Honesty is the best policy and all that.

"I want the rewards from completing your tasks," the Sigilyph eventually answered.

"Do you. . . ." Jury opened his other eye and studied the Sigilyph before him. "Well, we'll see about that. For now, what are your qualifications? Why do you think you could help us?"

The feathers on Damane's back stood up a little farther, but he managed to control his voice. "I know the moves Psychic, Miracle Eye, Air Slash, and Fly."

Jury dismissed his answers. "All useless for our purposes, except for Fly, perhaps. You could carry things."

"I am not useless," growled Damane.

The Spiritomb lowered his eyes to meet those on Damane's face. "I did not say that _you_ are useless, Damane." The Sigilyph was struck dumb for a moment, both by Jury's changed attitude and by the sound of his name in the Spiritomb's voice.

"Now," Jury went on, "what are your _other_ qualifications? You're stubborn, aren't you? I assume you would not give up easily." Damane chose not to answer, and he only looked up at the Spiritomb. . . well, yes, stubbornly.

"But you look as if you might be rather violent." The mayor's eyes flicked back up to the scar on Damane's antenna. "I abhor violence, and I will not abide its use in accomplishing my tasks."

Damane's ire rose again, but he was beginning to feel that Jury was actively trying to anger him. Perhaps it was part of the test.

"I am not violent unless I must defend myself," the Sigilyph replied, keeping his voice as steady as he could.

"Hmm." Jury fell quiet for another period, closing his eyes in what Damane assumed was thought. The Sigilyph kept his own gaze on the Spiritomb, taking in the intense color of his body and the mesmerizing pulse of the energy orbs that circled it. As much as Damane disliked other Pokémon, he still had to acknowledge that Jury was beautiful.

"Those are enough questions." Jury's words shook Damane from his thoughts, and the Spiritomb opened his eyes. "Now for your interview."

Damane stared at him, startled, which was probably exactly the reaction Jury wanted. "What. . . _is_ the interview, then?"

"Oh. . . I thought Andy had explained it. I have to know if you are a criminal, and of course I can't just take your word for it. I must know the truth. Now, keep looking at me."

Damane did so, curious in spite of his cynicism. As he watched the Spiritomb's face, the green orbs circled Jury faster, and their light grew more intense. Then, abruptly, three of them shot away from Jury's body, aimed right at Damane's three eyes.

The Sigilyph gasped and tried to move back, but the orbs were too fast. Damane's gaze was filled with green light, and then. . . Jury was inside him.

Damane was aware that the Spiritomb was still resting on the bench before him, and the Sigilyph could still see the courtroom- yet he was also aware of Jury's consciousness inside his brain. At first, Damane only had one thought, that Jury could possess him entirely if he wanted to.

However, other thoughts crept in slowly. Jury was sifting through Damane's memories- and _that_ was the interview. _He can read my mind,_ Damane thought. _And that's why I can't lie to him. . . ._

_Yes._ Though there was no sound, Damane could imagine the word spoken in Jury's voice. _I'm sorry for the intrusion, but I must know. . . ._ Yet his tone was not sorry at all.

Damane made a token try at resistance, to pull away from the Spiritomb's intrusion. . . but he didn't really _want_ to.

_He's paralyzing me! That's why I don't want to escape,_ thought the Sigilyph until he felt a near laugh from Jury.

_Oh, not at all. You're enjoying yourself. You've never been close to anyone before, have you?_ And the Spiritomb would know it was true. His presence felt warm in Damane's mind, and yes, it was enjoyable. Finally, Damane gave in and let Jury find the answers he wanted.

No, Damane was not a criminal, in spite of his appearance and attitude. No, he was not violent. He had been in fights but had never started them; he had wounded others, but only after he had been attacked first. He had always been alone.

Jury's warmth moved deeper into Damane's memories- the Spiritomb was looking for something. Damane questioned this, but in contrast to his own, Jury's thoughts were completely masked from him. The Spiritomb kept digging, and Damane was too comfortable to protest or try again to draw back.

But then- Jury found it. Damane felt a flare of pain in his antenna, along the curved scar that marked the flesh above his eye. _He wants to know how I got that scar-_

"No!" the Sigilyph cried aloud, shrinking back both physically and in his mind. He flung his wings over his face and drew his tail up, trying to protect himself not from Jury but from his own memories.

The Spiritomb had withdrawn from Damane's mind as soon as the Sigilyph had cried out. When Damane finally peered up at him from between his feathers, Jury was watching him with an unreadable expression on his glowing face.

"I'm sorry," the Spiritomb said. Hearing his voice aloud and not mentally made Damane realize how completely alone he was once more. "I did not mean to cause you pain."

"Did I pass your _interview_?" Damane snarled. He didn't care to hide his frustration now- in fact, he hardly cared if he passed or not. He only wanted the Spiritomb out of his sight.

"Yes, congratulations." Jury's voice sounded flat. "You may proceed with the tasks of your choice."

Damane turned and flew from the room, out into the dusty foyer. Once the double doors were between him and Jury's gaze, the Sigilyph slumped to the ground and shuddered. He rubbed his scarred antenna with one hand and straightened his scarf. Finally, when Damane was sure of himself, he lifted back into the air and left the courthouse.


	3. Chapter 3

**PMD-E Team CanToi June Tasks - Timmy's Rescue**

After a night of little sleep camping on the outskirts of Gambitville, Damane flew back into town to get more information on his first task. He cast a glare at the courthouse and gave it a wide berth, instead heading to the sheriff's office where the town marshals tended to gather. Before entering, the Sigilyph peeked into a window using his antenna.

The office was empty except for a small Houndour curled up on the desk. Damane had hoped to see Andy; the Golurk seemed to be the best informed citizen in the small town. Still, the Sigilyph wanted to get started- and get away from Gambitville as soon as possible.

Damane opened the door with one of his pitchfork-shaped hands. Like everything else in the town, the sheriff's office was covered in a layer of dust, but the Sigilyph was used to dust; he had spent all his life in the desert after all.

As he shut the door, the Houndour's ears perked up, and he lifted his head.

"Oh, hello! Are you here to help us out?""

"Perhaps. Are you a marshal?" After his encounter with Jury, Damane was cautious about everyone, even a seemingly friendly Houndour.

"Yes- I'm sorry, I should introduce myself!" The Houndour jumped to his feet, standing up right on the desk. "I'm Marshal Huckleberry! But you don't have to call me marshal- just Huckleberry is fine."

"I am Damane," the Sigilyph murmured. "Do you have a task for me?"

"Wow, you're motivated!" Huckleberry gave him a happy dog-smile. "Great, we need some good workers! And yes, I've got a very important task for you." The Houndour's smile faded, and his ears drooped a little. "One of the kids in town- a little Sandshrew- is missing! I saw him fall down the well."

"The. . . well." Damane wondered how anyone could be so clumsy and/or stupid, but he wasn't going to question the task. "And you want me to rescue him?"

"Er, yes, if. . . if he's, you know, still alive." Huckleberry looked a little embarrassed. "See, I would have rescued him right away, but there's no way for me to get down in the well- or to get back out. The well is the entrance to a series of underwater caves, so poor little Timmy might have drowned. Your task is to bring him back in. . . er, in either case."

"Like the cliché, 'wanted dead or alive.'" Damane wasn't squeamish, so the "dead" part of the equation wasn't a problem. The problem was that Damane hated water. Going down a well would be bad enough, but having to navigate underwater caves?

_I'll get over it,_ the Sigilyph finally told himself.

"All right. I will return to you when I find. . . Timmy." The Sigilyph started to turn away, but Huckleberry gave a nervous whine.

"Actually. . . you need to bring Timmy to Jury. He's the one in charge, you know."

Damane cringed inwardly. "So I've heard. Fine."

"Oh, also if you want some help, you could try to find Nile- he's another marshal," Huckleberry suggested. "He's a Vaporeon, so he's good at swimming."

"I do not need any help," muttered Damane as he left the sheriff's office. True, it would be nice to have someone else to do the swimming. . . but Damane always worked alone.

Damane knew which well Timmy had fallen into. . . because there was only one well in Gambitville. For that matter, it was impossible to miss, seeing as how it was situated in the exact middle of town. Damane flew that way from the sheriff's office and landed before the foreboding structure that marked the well's entrance.

This structure was shaped like what Damane guessed was a Pokémon, although he had never met anyone who looked like _that_. A long neck arched upward from the opening of the well; at its end, a fleshless head bent over the opening. Two reddish-orange gems were set in the skull's eyes, and a beak-like hook anchored a rope leading into the well itself. Overall, Damane had the impression of a skeletal dragon; this was surrounded by dark, finger-like protrusions coming up from the sand and tipped with red claws.

_Who would build something like that- especially in a ramshackle town like this?_ Damane wondered. _Oh well, not my problem._ Tasteless design aside, Damane wasn't especially frightened by the well. What concerned him was the water inside.

The Sigilyph fluttered to the edge of the well's opening and peered inside. The rope dangling from the skull above him led downward, and Damane could just make out a bucket floating some distance down. Occasionally, he caught the sun's reflection on a ripple of water in the well's depths. Damane didn't see any signs of a Sandshrew down there. . . but he hadn't expected things to be that easy.

Damane took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then he flew into the air and grasped the rope leading into the well. _Might as well take advantage of this. . . ._ The Sigilyph lowered himself into the well with his wings, guiding himself down with the rope.

He cringed when his tail feathers first touched the cold water in the well. The temperature even in the air was cool that deep, and Damane fluffed up his feathers to keep warm as he perched on the edge of the bucket with one hand still on the rope.

_Now what?_ Even once Damane's eyes adjusted to the dark, it was hard to see anything. Obviously there was no dead Sandshrew floating on the water's surface, but Damane supposed the body might have sunk. Investigating this possibility would entail diving to the bottom of the well. . . .

Damane decided to try a different approach first. He closed his lower two eyes but kept his third open. Being a psychic type Pokémon, Damane had perceptive abilities beyond the normal five senses. He normally didn't need these skills, but he still honed them at night out in the deserts he frequented.

Now, he focused all of his consciousness into his antenna. While the eye there could see just like those on his face, it also could sense what could not be seen. As Damane concentrated, the vision in his third eye faded, replaced by a perception of the depth and area around him.

And then all the desert training paid off: Damane "saw" a small opening in the rock lining the well shaft. It was just above the water level, meaning that the Sandshrew might have been able to crawl through it had he been floating on the water's surface. At any rate, checking out the opening meant getting less wet than diving.

Still using his third eye to navigate, Damane fluttered from his perch on the bucket to the opening in the shaft. Even though he was a small Sigilyph, Damane could barely fit. He crawled in, finding himself in a short tunnel through the rock. On the other side, he stuck his antenna out to take a look around.

There was an open room on the other side! Despite its solid darkness, Damane could make it all out with his perception. The room was really more of a cavern. . . and it was filled with water. The water level was considerably lower than on the well side, but there was no dry ground. There _was_, oddly enough, a boat floating just below the tunnel where Damane huddled.

After checking to be sure the cavern's ceiling was high enough to allow flight, Damane wriggled out of the tunnel and hovered over the boat, not lowering himself completely until he was sure it would bear his weight. Once he was inside, Damane realized that the boat was not in the best condition; the wood felt rough and splintered against his feathers, and it smelled moldy. What's more, there was no sign that the Sandshrew had used it.

Besides its air of having not been disturbed for years, the boat's bottom was littered with objects. _Maybe someone went exploring down here and left their stuff behind. . . for some reason. . . ._ Not especially wanting to think about what had happened to the explorer, Damane pawed through the items instead. He could identify some of them by touch- a coin, an amulet of some sort- but others were stranger. Damane peered at them with his third eye, trying to identify them.

One still had a bit of life energy attached to it. After feeling it with his hand for a moment, Damane realized that it was somebody's _foot_.

"Ugh," the Sigilyph said aloud. He moved his hand over to something else. It seemed to be round but had sharp points along its edges, like a circular saw. The shape felt familiar, but Damane wasn't sure why until he leaned closer and really stared at it with his third eye.

_It's a Spiritomb. . . ._ He sat back with a shudder, not of fright but of embarrassment as he thought of Jury and how Damane had shown weakness to him. In spite of that, he wanted whatever it was he had found. The Sigilyph untied the tattered scarf he wore around his antenna and wrapped the object up in it. Damane retied the scarf across his back like a knapsack, then his thoughts returned to the missing Sandshrew.

_If he came through the tunnel and fell out, he might have missed the boat entirely and sunk. . . or swum. _Hoping for the latter possibility, Damane pushed off from the wall with one hand, letting the boat drift to the middle of the cavern. From there, his third eye could pick up all sides of the chamber and afford Damane a better idea of where he was. He could sense a low opening across from the tunnel he had used; he could probably fit through in the boat if he ducked.

However, Damane had a vague sense of more openings. . . below the water level. He couldn't be sure, but there seemed to be two tunnels somewhere underwater. _They probably lead to even more chambers- and those might be completely underwater._

The Sigilyph drew his wings close to his body and closed his third eye. He was tempted to crawl back into the well and fly right out of there- give up this task and choose another. But that would mean having to tell Huckleberry that he had failed, without even really trying. . . and what if the Houndour had already informed Jury that Damane had accepted the task? The Spiritomb would think Damane was a weakling for giving up.

Damane let out an angry, bird-like twitter and opened his eye again. Without debating the matter at all- and without really making a plan either- the Sigilyph jumped off the side of the boat into the frigid water of the cavern. He took a breath then used his wings to propel himself downward, deeper, until his third eye could detect one of the tunnels before him.

Damane swam forward awkwardly, trying to pretend that he was flying instead. He had never been swimming before, but the motions really were like flying. It was the water itself that bothered him, cold and insidious, seeping under his feathers to touch his skin. The sensation was inescapable, like Jury moving in his mind. . . except that had felt warm. The water was not, and it left Damane feeling more alone than ever.

The Sigilyph swam over to the tunnel he had discovered, hesitated, then pushed himself through. It was a bit larger than the dry tunnel leading from the well, but the chamber on the other side was much smaller than the cavern he had left. Damane could sense no other openings there.

_A dead end!_ He started to turn back, but then he realized that his lungs were beginning to burn. In all Damane's worry about the water, it hadn't occurred to him that he wasn't used to holding his breath.

_Air!_ he thought as the perceptions from his third eye crowded over. _I can't make it back in time. . . . I'm going to drown._ He thrashed his wings in the water, trying to hurry back to the tunnel but making no progress at all. In his panic, he could neither see nor sense anything, and he twisted around blindly. Finally, his Sigilyph instinct kicked in, the flight instinct which taught young Sigilyphs that "up" meant safety. Even with nowhere to go, Damane gave a hard down-flap of his wings, launching himself upward in the water.

And then- his antenna broke the water's surface. A second later, the whole Sigilyph emerged, gasping in air as he rolled over to float on his back. The air was hard to breathe, and it took him several gulps to calm down. . . but there _was_ air, and when he had recovered, Damane felt very silly to have panicked.

_Didn't even think about there being an air pocket here._ Damane shifted so that he was upright in the water, then he took a look around with his third eye. There were no tunnels or openings leading to another chamber- but there _was_ an alcove a few feet away from him. It consisted of a rock shelf with a small space behind it. . . and in that space, Damane could sense another living creature.

Damane paddled over to the alcove and tried to read the psychic energy of the being inside. It was a small creature, young, and while he couldn't determine its species, Damane could only assume that he had found the missing Sandshrew.

"Hey. . . you, kid." Damane reached out an arm and poked around in the middle of the energy he sensed. He could feel the flank of the other Pokémon; it was hard but grooved. Moving his hand along the creature's leg, Damane found that it ended with a thick-clawed foot. He had seen plenty of Sandshrews in his day, and Damane was sure this was another one.

The Sigilyph gave the Sandshrew a good shake. "Hey! Are you Timmy?"

"Nnngh." The little Pokémon shifted slightly. "Hard to. . . breathe. . . ."

"Yeah, you-" Damane paused for a deep breath himself. "-you've used up. . . the oxygen. Take a deep breath. . . and hold it!"

"Wh-what. . . ?"

"Do it!" snapped Damane. He wanted out of there and fast!

He heard a hissing sound as Timmy complied. Damane reached out his other arm and got as firm a grip as he could on the kid, then he took a deep breath himself. The Sigilyph dove back into the water with the Sandshrew in his arms and, using his third eye to guide himself, hurried back to the tunnel.

After pushing Timmy through, Damane emerged from the tunnel and gave a powerful thrust of his wings to propel them both to the surface. Although the Sandshrew wasn't very heavy, Damane had a hard time both swimming and holding on, so he made his way to the worn boat and shoved Timmy up over the side. Only then did Damane rest, holding on to the side of the boat and breathing heavily.

"Who are you?" Timmy asked after a moment of catching his own breath. "Where are we? It's so dark. . . ."

"Hold your Ponytas," Damane growled. "We'll be out in a minute. I'm taking you back to the well." Once he had rested, the Sigilyph pushed the boat to the opening leading to the well. He climbed out of the water himself and perched in the narrow opening to shake out his wings. When Damane was sure he could fly again if necessary, he reached down and dragged Timmy out of the boat. Scrambling backward through the tunnel, Damane tugged the kid after him.

Unfortunately, Damane had overestimated the length of the tunnel. Suddenly he found himself back in the well, tumbling antenna over tail feathers into the water. As dim as the light in the well was, it hurt his three eyes until they adjusted from the total darkness of the inner caves.

To make things worse, he heard a giggle from his rescuee. Glaring up from where he floated in the well, Damane saw that Timmy was sitting in the opening of the tunnel, watching him.

"So you're a Sigilyph! I've seen lots of you flying in the desert, but I've never been close to one."

"I see you're feeling better," grumbled Damane. He grabbed the bucket floating in the water and pushed it over to Timmy. "Get in there so I have a straight shot to lift you out of here."

"Okay. . . ." Timmy climbed into the bucket, and Damane let it go to drift back to the middle of the well. "I tried to use this rope to get out after I fell in, but. . . well, I'm not good at climbing. So then I saw that little tunnel and thought there might be some other way out. But, um. . . there wasn't." He peered over the edge of the bucket at Damane. "I thought I was gonna die! Thank you for saving me, Mister Sigilyph."

"My name is Damane." The Sigilyph climbed back out of the water to perch in the tunnel opening, shaking out his wings once more. "I'm going to use Fly to carry you up the well shaft. Don't squirm or I just might drop you again."

Timmy nodded, eyes wide. Damane launched himself off of his perch and grabbed Timmy under the arms with both hands, then he flew straight upward. The dim light grew brighter as they moved up the shaft, then sunlight exploded in all three of the Sigilyph's eyes. When they were finally free of the well, Damane set Timmy down on the sandy ground beside him.

Now that he could see, Damane noted that Timmy was a small but otherwise ordinary Sandshrew; he wore a blue bandana around his neck. He was a bit dirty but none the worse for wear, and his plated skin was quickly drying in the sun. As Damane landed beside Timmy, he thought that he himself probably looked a lot worse with his sodden feathers. He fluffed them a little, hoping to dry out faster.

"I'm hungry!" Timmy declared. "And I want to see my mom. . . . I know she's worried about me."

"You have to see Jury first," Damane told him. "Marshal Huckleberry said so."

"M-mayor Jury?" Timmy's face fell, and he drew back a little. "Do I _have_ to?" He seemed scared of the Spiritomb, but Damane could understand why. Jury was enough to unnerve _him_, much less a small kid.

"Yes," was all Damane answered, but talk of the Spiritomb reminded him of the object he had found. Untying his wet scarf, Damane produced his prize and looked it over.

It appeared to be a mirror set into a Spiritomb-shaped frame. The frame was purple and green, the Spiritomb's normal coloring- not flame red like most of Jury's body- but it reminded Damane of the mayor all the same. The frame was mounted on a replica Odd Keystone set with red gems that seemed to glow in the sunlight.

"What's that?" Timmy asked.

"Something I found in the well." Damane covered the mirror back up without looking into it. He had never liked seeing his reflection, and somehow, seeing it framed by a Spiritomb would be even worse. "Come on, kid, let's get this over with, then you can go home."

Damane flew over to the courthouse with Timmy following him more slowly- almost slinking in fact. The Sandshrew stayed behind Damane once they entered the dusty foyer, and Damane had literally to pull him through the door that led into the courtroom.

Jury was there just as Damane had seen him the previous day, hovering above his Odd Keystone which rested on the judge's bench.

"Oh. . . Damane," he murmured in his strange, layered voice. The Sigilyph was rather surprised that Jury remembered his name- there were several other Pokémon in town performing tasks for him, and Damane hadn't imagined he would stand out among them.

"Is this the missing boy?" the Spiritomb went on. As he turned his yellow-green gaze on Timmy, the little Sandshrew drew back even more and hid himself behind Damane.

"Yes, this is Timmy." Damane was tempted to shove the kid out in front of Jury, but even he couldn't do that to an obviously frightened child. "He seems to be healthy, but he wants to go home."

"I imagine so." Jury studied the Sandshrew for another moment then went on, "You may leave, Timmy."

"Y-y-yes sir!" yelped Timmy, and he dashed out of the courtroom as fast as his stubby legs could go.

When he was gone, Damane growled, "Well? Have I earned the reward?"

"Yes, the reward is one point. Here. . . ." The Spiritomb used a tendril of energy to toss a token to Damane from a stack on the bench. "And you may keep any one item you found in the well." Jury paused and focused his eyes on Damane's. "What _did_ you find?"

_Somehow, he knows. . . ._ Still glowering, Damane untied his scarf once more and took out the mirror he had found. "I found several items, but I took this."

"A Truthful Mirror. . . ." The glow in Jury's eyes heightened as he looked at it. "May I examine it?"

Having no good reason to refuse, Damane flew closer to Jury and held out the mirror in one hand. Now only about a yard from the Spiritomb, Damane was aware of the energy swirling around his insubstantial body. Jury extended another tendril and somehow took the mirror from Damane, despite his lack of a true solid body.

"I have not seen one of these in- well, a long time." Jury cut his eyes at Damane. "Did you look into it?"

"No." Damane met the Spiritomb's gaze, taking it as a challenge. "I don't like mirrors."

"Good. _Don't_ look into it." Apparently noticing how Damane's feathers bristled at the command, Jury chuckled. "Please, do not, for your own sake. It will fill you with regret and make you feel unhappy. . . and it will slow you down in battle. However, if you can get your opponent to look into it- he or she will be slowed instead."

_Why should he be concerned for my welfare?_ Damane took the mirror back and tucked it into his scarf without addressing Jury's comments.

Jury didn't seem to care as he went on talking. "Why did you choose that item, if you found several?"

The answer came to Damane's mind before he could suppress it. _Because it reminded me of you._ He clenched his mouth closed until he thought of something else to say.

"It appeared to be the most valuable item."

"Mmn. And are you going to attempt other tasks?" the Spiritomb asked.

"Yes, of course," muttered Damane.

"Then Andy will be able to give you the information you need. I suggest you rest first, though." Jury's swirls of energy moved more slowly as he gazed at Damane. "You look. . . tired."

Damane was again aware of how he must look, his already worn feathers sodden and clumped together and his torn scarf dirtier than ever.

"I'm fine." He looked away from Jury with his lower eyes, but the one on his antenna was fixed on the Spiritomb's face.

"If you say so." Jury's voice had an indulgent tone to it, yet his eyes held an expression that might have been sympathy. Being pitied riled Damane more than being mocked, and he turned away in fury.

"I'll finish the next task quickly," he snapped as he fluttered to the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**PMD-E Team CanToi and LoftyBalloon June Tasks - Brick Making**

"Are you sure this is the best task for us?" Schreber asked as he and Poof surveyed the vast desert surrounding Gambitville. "I mean. . . I'm not very strong, and you're- well, you're a _balloon_. Making and stacking bricks is going to be hard for us."

"I think we can do it!" Poof tried to make his rather squeaky voice sound confident, but the enormity of the task had sunk in. Marshal Andy told them that Mayor Jury wanted to build a wall around Gambitville, and Andy needed help making bricks out of the sandstone. That job had sounded better than the first one Andy mentioned- building gallows- but now Poof wondered just how Team LoftyBalloon was going to get it done.

"Maybe. . . maybe we can do it in small stages," the Drifloon suggested. "Like first we can bring a couple of these rocks into town, then we can figure out how to make them into bricks."

"Okay." Schreber fluttered his wings. "Marshal Andy said to stack the bricks behind the courthouse, so why don't we take the rocks back there? Then we won't have to move the bricks far."

"Good idea!" Poof smiled at his friend then drifted over to a small piece of sandstone, about half as big as he was. He gripped it with his heart-shaped hands and tugged. "Pooooof!"

"Um, it's not moving," Schreber pointed out. "Let me help!" The Sigilyph joined Poof at the rock and grabbed the other side in his own hands. Together, the two Pokémon managed to lift the rock a few inches above the ground.

"Nngh! Now- f-fly!" Poof panted. As they started on a slow trip back to town, he got the uneasy feeling that this was going to take a long time.

Damane was chipping away at a piece of sandstone behind the courthouse when he heard heavy panting behind him. The Sigilyph narrowed his three eyes and gripped the chisel and hammer he was holding. _If that's some kind of creeper behind me, I'm going to let him have it!_

But then Damane used his antenna to look behind him. Instead of a creep, he saw two Pokémon flying slowly towards him, carrying a sandstone rock between them. One was a small Drifloon who was barely able to hold up his end; the other was another Sigilyph. Damane's third eye narrowed even further. This Sigilyph was young with lush, vibrantly colored feathers. His eyes were a vivid cobalt blue, and his body was very round.

_Obviously had an easy life_, Damane scoffed to himself as he turned back to his work. A moment later, the two Pokémon were beside him, and they dropped their rock on the sandy ground with a thud.

"Flooooon. . . ." moaned the Drifloon as he sank to the ground. "My strings hurt!"

The Sigilyph twittered in concern. "It was too heavy for you, Poof. Let me get the next one!"

"But you can't do it by yourself, Schreber!" The Drifloon looked at his companion sadly, then he turned his shiny black eyes on Damane.

_Don't talk to me, don't talk to me,_ Damane thought.

"Hi!" cried the Drifloon. "Do you mind if we work back here too? It looks like we're all doing the same task."

"I'm not stopping you," muttered Damane.

The Drifloon gave a squeak of acknowledgment, paused, then added, "My name is Poof, and this is Schreber. We're Team LoftyBalloon!"

"Hmph," said Damane.

Schreber, the sleek and plump Sigilyph, fluttered a little closer to Damane and twittered at him. "What's your name? I haven't seen another Sigilyph in a while."

"Damane." He cast Schreber an angry look with his antenna as he focused his other two eyes on his work. It wasn't the neatest looking brick in the world; Damane didn't have the patience to smooth out the sides. _Good enough,_ he thought and shoved the brick aside before starting on another.

Poof gave Damane's work a critical look then picked up a chisel of his own from a pile of tools Andy had left for the workers.

"Schreber, do you want to tackle an end of the rock each? We can work faster that way. . . ."

"Sure, Poof!" chirped Schreber in a sweet voice that made Damane cringe. In spite of himself, the older Sigilyph ended up watching the partners work. They made progress much faster than he did on his own, and their bricks quickly formed- with smooth, geometrical sides.

_Ugh. . . goody two-strings Drifloon and pampered Sigilyph. . . ._ Damane tried to cover his jealousy with irritation. He laid his chisel aside and took to the air, deciding to go get more sandstone instead. As he flew, he wondered what _their_ interview with Jury had been like. _Did he read that Sigilyph's mind? __**He**__ doesn't have any scars. . . ._

Being tougher and stronger than Schreber, Damane found a sizable piece of sandstone and carried it back more quickly than Team LoftyBalloon had been able to, even working together. Damane's move Fly made carrying a heavy weight fairly simple, and he soon dropped his large rock behind the courthouse. Both Poof and Schreber looked up.

"Wow!" squeaked the Drifloon. "You're strong- and fast! It took us forever to get a smaller rock than that!"

Damane grunted, grudgingly admiring the team's work himself: they had already finished four bricks, which were stacked tidily against the courthouse wall. . . a stark contrast to Damane's rough block.

"Um, Damane?" Schreber spoke nervously, drawing his wings in close to his body.

"What?" Damane ruffled his own feathers.

"Maybe. . . maybe we could all work together? You can get rocks a lot faster than we can. . . but, um, we're better at- I mean, we can make bricks faster."

"Hey, that's a great idea!" Poof cried. "If you get the sandstone, and we make the bricks- we can get a big stack done for Mayor Jury in a hurry! Then we can move on to a new task."

Damane wanted to refuse just out of spite. . . but the two annoyingly cute Pokémon were right. It was stupid for each team to struggle at part of the task when they could all excel together.

"All right," he finally agreed. "You two keep carving, and I'll get more rocks."

The morning passed quickly for Damane, flying back and forth from the courthouse to the desert. He stopped to rest once he had piled up several rocks, but it didn't take Poof and Schreber long to catch up to him and shape all the rocks into bricks. By the time the sun was high over Gambitville, the three Pokémon had a stack of bricks taller than all of them combined.

"Do you guys think that's enough?" asked Poof. "Andy did say to make _a lot_."

"It's enough," grumbled Damane. "Let's go tell Jury we're done so we can get our reward."

Schreber gave a distressed chirp. "I-I wish we could just get it from Marshal Andy."

Damane chuckled and bobbed his antenna at the other Sigilyph. "You scared of Jury?"

"A-aren't you?" Schreber drew back behind Poof defensively. The Drifloon glared at Damane for teasing his friend.

"He's a very intimidating Spiritomb," the Drifloon pointed out.

Damane shrugged his pitchfork-shaped arms, trying to pretend Poof wasn't right. "Well, your squeaky partner can talk for you, Schreb. He seems pretty good at that."

The three rounded the courthouse and went inside. Jury was at his usual spot, resting on the judge's bench in the courtroom. He cast his yellow-green eyes down on the two teams; the eye with the spiral widened a bit when he saw Damane with the other two Pokémon.

"Yes?" the Spiritomb rumbled. "Have both of your teams completed a task?"

Schreber once more hid behind Poof- despite being three times the size of the little Drifloon- but Poof squeaked, "Yes, sir! We worked together to make you a nice stack of bricks behind the courthouse!"

"You worked together, did you?" Jury's eyes rested on Damane, looking slightly amused. The scarred Sigilyph bristled, barely able to bite his tongue.

"All right," Jury went on. "Each of your teams gets a point." He used two tendrils of energy to give a token to Poof and one to Damane. "Whose idea was this, to combine your teams?"

"We didn't combine our teams," Damane snapped. "It's temporary."

"And I'm assuming the idea wasn't _yours_," returned Jury.

"It. . . it was mine, sir," Schreber chirped in a tiny voice.

"Really?" Jury looked at him, the green orbs of energy swirling around his face. "Then well done, young Sigilyph. It can be an efficient way to complete tasks."

Jealousy flared in Damane; he felt as if the emotion were being broadcast right out of his antenna. He slipped his token into the scarf he wore on his antenna, then he turned away from the Spiritomb and flew out of the courthouse.

A bit surprised, Poof watched Damane leave, then he looked back up at Jury.

"Is that all for this task, sir?"

"Yes, little one," boomed the Spiritomb. "I will look forward to rewarding you for your next task."

"Yes sir!" Poof squeaked proudly. Behind him, Schreber gave a faint twitter.

"I wonder what that other Sigilyph's problem is," Poof mused once they had left the courthouse. Damane had already disappeared.

"He doesn't like me," sighed Schreber. "I don't know why. . . ."

"I don't think he likes much of anyone!" Poof gave his friend a stringy hug. "It doesn't matter though- Mayor Jury seemed proud of us, and we got our reward! That's what's important." He glanced up at the sky to check the sun's position. "And look, it's only about noon! We can start on a new task this afternoon if you're not too tired."

"No, I'm fine." Schreber gave him a little smile. "Kind of hungry though."

Poof squeaked in laughter. "Me too! Let's get some lunch first."


	5. Chapter 5

**PMD-E Team LoftyBalloon June Tasks - Posting Flyers, Enforcing Curfew**

After the arduous job of making bricks- and having lunch- Poof and Schreber stopped by the sheriff's office to ask about other tasks they could do. When they emerged, each Pokémon was carrying a stack of flyers distributed to them by Marshal Andy, and Schreber held a little baggie of pushpins in one hand.

"So all we have to do is hang these up?" Schreber peered down at his flyers with his third eye.

"I guess so." Poof re-read the flyer on top of his stack: it advised any former criminals that they were welcome in Gambitville and would be pardoned of their crimes. . . if they led peaceful, law-abiding lives from then on. "Although Marshal Andy also said to convince any criminals we met to do what the flyers say."

"Eep," twittered Schreber, fluffing up his feathers. "I hope we _don't_ meet any criminals. That other Sigilyph we worked with was scary enough!"

"Damane isn't _that_ bad," Poof tried to convince Schreber- and himself. "He can't be a criminal if Mayor Jury let him work here. Although. . . ." The Drifloon squinted at the flyer again. "If Mayor Jury is pardoning all the criminals, why wouldn't he let them do tasks for him?"

"Don't even ask." Schreber gave a little shiver. "I don't think we should question him."

Poof shrugged his strings. "Yeah. . . we're just here to help out." He looked up and down Gambitville's main street. "I guess we should just start at one end and hang our way to the other!"

As Poof was a little nervous about handling the pushpins, Schreber did the actual pinning while Poof held each flyer in place. They hung flyers on the outside of every door, as well as inside several establishments, including the Goldglug Saloon and general store. The round Pokémon actually ran out of flyers before they reached the end of the street, but as the sun was nearing the horizon by then, they decided they'd done enough.

"Should we go see Mayor Jury now and get our reward?" Schreber asked. "Or do you want to do another task?"

"Well, there was one more Marshal Andy mentioned." Poof looked back up the street at the saloon. "About making sure everyone sticks to their curfew. . . ."

"Oh, I don't know." Schreber folded his pitchfork-shaped hands in front of him nervously. "What if there's a- what did he call it? A 'drunken brawl'?"

"He also said drunken brawls were prohibited," Poof pointed out, "so there shouldn't be any! C'mon, it shouldn't be that hard. We can go get some dinner at the saloon, then just stick around until curfew to make sure everyone goes home."

"I'm not sure, Poof," mumbled Schreber. "I don't like parties as it is. . . ."

"Aww, Schreber, it'll be okay!" Poof gave his friend an encouraging squeeze with one string. "Just think, tomorrow we can go see Mayor Jury and get the rest of our points- then we can head back to Tao Village!"

The Sigilyph managed a little smile. "Okay, Poof, I guess one more task won't hurt."

Team LoftyBalloon made their way back to the Goldglug Saloon and pushed inside the swinging doors. To Schreber's relief, the saloon was mostly empty: apparently Jury's reawakening had calmed things down quite a bit. The saloon owner, a Cacturne wearing a bowtie, was polishing glasses behind the bar; other than him, there were only two other Pokémon inside: a grumpy looking ! Unown at the bar and an Exeggutor seated at a table.

"You sit down, Schreber. I'll get us something to eat!" Poof gestured at an empty table where Schreber sat down, then the Drifloon floated over to the bar.

"Good evening. How do you do?" the Cacturne said to him, even giving Poof a little bow.

Poof bobbed in the air in response, surprised at being treated so politely. "Hi! I'm fine, just a bit dusty! My name's Poof, and my friend over there is Schreber." He thought about holding out a hand to shake, but then he decided that the Cacturne's spikes might not agree with his puffy heart-shaped hands.

"My name is Donahue," said the Cacturne. "What can I do for you two?"

"We'd like some supper please. Whatever you have is fine! And some water to drink."

"All right," Donahue nodded. "Have a seat with your friend, and I'll bring it out to you."

Poof had barely settled himself in his chair when Donahue came over with their food. Each Pokémon was served a plate of rice and beans, along with a glass of water. . . and a plate of fresh Pecha berries.

"Ooh, berries!" Poof squeaked happily. "Pecha are my favorite!"

"They're on the house," said Donahue. "One of the Merchant teams passing through sold a bushel of them to me, but it turns out not many of my customers like them. I've resorted to giving them away!"

"Oh, we'll pay you for them!" Poof cried around a mouthful of berries. "They're delicious!"

"Yes, of course," Schreber added. He had cheered up considerably after meeting the friendly Cacturne.

"That's very kind of you." After looking around to make sure he had no pressing customers, Donahue sat down with the team while they ate. "I guess you two are here to help with Jury's tasks?"

"Yes sir!" Poof explained their situation between bites. "We're Rescuers, and we wanted to help out here."

"We appreciate it, very much," was all Donahue replied. He didn't offer much to say on the subject of Jury, but the Cacturne was forthcoming otherwise and told them all about his saloon, his daughter Savannah, and some of his recent customers.

"I have a few small rooms for rent upstairs," Donahue told them, "if you need a place to stay."

"That would be very nice!" said Poof with a happy squeak. "It'll be a lot better than camping out!" He looked up at an antique clock still keeping time over the bar. "Mayor Jury's curfew is at ten o'clock, right? That's an hour from now. . . ."

"Yes, so you'll need to be in your room by then," explained Donahue. He pulled out a keyring attached to the apron he wore and took an ornate key from it. "You can use the room just at the top of the stairs- it's a double."

"Thank you!" Schreber tucked the key into the red scarf he wore at the base of his tail. "We could head on up. . . ."

Poof gave his friend a deadpan look. "Schreber. . . I didn't forget about our last task, you know." As the Sigilyph's antenna drooped, Donahue gave them a worried look.

"Oh. . . you are going to enforce the curfew?" The Cacturne seemed doubtful that a small Drifloon was the best Pokémon for the job. "Please be careful. Most nights it isn't too bad here, but sometimes there _are_ fights."

"Fights. . . ." Schreber sank down a little in his chair.

"Don't worry, we'll be very careful!" Poof said quickly. "We'll just stay here and be sure those other two guys leave."

"Well. . . all right." The Cacturne took up their empty plates. "I'll bring you some more water. . . and some more berries. I have a lot left!"

Another half hour passed as Poof and Schreber munched their second helping of berries and sipped their water. Schreber excused himself to use, as he put it, "the Little Sigilyphs' Room," leaving Poof by himself at their table. The Unown had left by that point, but the Exeggutor was still nursing a bottle at his table. Still, he didn't seem dangerous or rowdy, so Poof wasn't worried about asking him to leave when the time came.

But then the saloon doors opened, and a new customer came in.

"Sir, we're closing in thirty minutes," Donahue called nervously from the bar.

"I think I can eat in thirty minutes," grumbled the newcomer. Poof looked at the pale, raggedy Sigilyph and bit back a sigh.

"Hi, Damane," he said instead, waving a puffy hand.

"Oh. . . it's you. . . Piff, was it?"

"Poof," said the Drifloon with a deadpan expression.

"Where's that pretty-boy Sigilyph you hang out with?" Damane settled himself at a nearby table and added to Donahue, "I'll take whatever you've got to eat. And a whiskey sour."

"He's in the restroom," Poof answered. He looked glumly at the last few pecha berries remaining in the bowl then offered it to Damane. "Would you like some berries?"

"I don't like that kind." The Sigilyph turned to face the table as Donahue served him more of the rice and beans then set a drink down beside the plate.

Schreber came back into the room, fluttering over to his chair. Poof saw his face fall when he spotted Damane, but Schreber was too polite to say anything. Damane ignored them as he ate, which was fine by Poof. The Drifloon kept his shiny black eyes on the clock, as did Donahue.

The Exeggutor seemed to be oblivious to them- but he certainly noticed the clock when its hands reached five minutes to ten. Panic crossed two of his three faces, and the ungainly Pokémon jumped to his feet.

"Thanks, Donahue," he mumbled, dropping some coins on his table. As he lumbered past the others, Poof heard him add, "Night, fellers."

"Good night!" Poof squeaked; it didn't hurt to be friendly. The Exeggutor left the saloon, presumably to hurry home before curfew. Then Poof looked at Damane. The Sigilyph had finished his meal but was working on his second drink. . . and he didn't seem to be in much of a hurry.

"Um, Damane," Poof said, floating over to the Sigilyph, "Mayor Jury's curfew is in five minutes. You need to be finishing up."

"What's it to you, Squeaky?" Damane snapped, casting his third eye at Poof.

"Hey, don't call him that. . . ." Schreber was usually timid, but the one thing that got him riled was someone being mean to Poof. He followed Poof over to Damane's table.

"It's okay, Schreber," Poof assured him. "Damane, we're helping to enforce Mayor Jury's curfew- it's one of our tasks."

Damane rolled all three of his eyes. "I should have known, a goody two-strings like you and Mr. Perfect over there."

"Hunh? You. . . you mean me?" asked Schreber.

"Yeah, you." Damane knocked back the rest of his drink and turned to face them. "If you'd lived the life I had, you wouldn't have such pretty thick feathers. . . and you wouldn't be so round either!"

"I. . . ." Poor Schreber was completely speechless.

"You should be nice to Schreber," Poof interrupted. "He never did anything to you!"

Damane narrowed his eyes but didn't answer that point. Instead he went on, "Why don't you two knock off for the day? I'm not causing any problems."

"I'm sorry, but we have to enforce the curfew!" squeaked Poof. "Marshal Andy said the rule was everyone has to go home at curfew, so no one stays up late partying."

"Yeah, like this is partying." Damane nudged his empty glass. "It's a stupid rule. _All_ the rules that Spiritomb made are stupid!"

Schreber gave a choked twitter, and even Poof felt nervous. "Uh, you shouldn't say things like that. Mayor Jury might have ways of hearing you! And anyway, I think he makes sense. He has to be strict to clean up the town!"

"I don't care if he hears me! I'll say it to his swirly, glowing, beautiful face!"

"Uhhh. . . ." Poof rubbed at his X with one hand. "I. . . think you've had enough to drink, Damane." He scooped up the Sigilyph's glass and gave it to Schreber. "Give this back to Donahue, please. Damane, it's ten o'clock now; time for bed!"

"Bite me, Squeaky," grumbled Damane. Poof, not to be deterred, wrapped his strings about one of the Sigilyph's arms.

"Come on, you can share our room here." Poof tugged firmly on the Sigilyph's arm. Finally, Damane got up and followed him, chirping grumpily as he went. After paying Donahue for their meal and room, Schreber joined them upstairs in the small but tidy room they rented.

When Poof woke up the next morning, Damane was gone. He had curled up in one of the room's two beds and refused to speak the previous night, and Poof suspected he had quickly gone to sleep. After washing up in the bathroom down the hall, Poof and Schreber had fallen asleep in the other bed. Apparently Damane had left in the early morning, but Poof supposed it didn't matter- there wasn't a rule against getting up early, only staying up late.

As Schreber stretched and started his morning routine of preening, Poof floated over to Damane's bed to make it up. He was surprised to see that the older Sigilyph had left a few coins there to pay for his share of the room.

After Team LoftyBalloon ate a light breakfast in the saloon and said goodbye to Donahue, they went to the courthouse to collect their last reward. Although it was still early, Mayor Jury was already there at the judge's bench.

"Andy told me you two were doing more tasks for me," boomed the mayor. "Have you completed them?"

"Yes sir," squeaked Poof. "We hung flyers all over the main street, and we made sure the Goldglug Saloon was cleared out last night."

"Ah, Donahue's place." Jury squinted his yellow-green eyes at the Drifloon. "Did you have any trouble?"

"Oh no sir, not at all! Everyone left right away except for. . . ." Poof broke off, feeling like he was tattling on Damane.

"Except for _whom_?" The Spiritomb's odd voice rose, and Schreber began to shake.

"Damane," Poof had to answer, "the Sigilyph who worked with us to make bricks."

"Ah. I see." Jury's voice lowered a bit. "Did _he_ cause you problems?"

"No sir, not really. He was just having a drink, and he didn't leave when it was time for the curfew- I think because he didn't have any place to go. So Schreber and I took him up to our room."

"I suppose that isn't really a violation," mused Jury. "You two did well to house him for the night." The Spiritomb paused then asked in a still quieter tone, "Where is he now?"

"Uh, well. . . ." Poof and Schreber exchanged looks. "We don't know. He was gone when we woke up."

"Oh." Jury said nothing else until he had produced two tokens and awarded them to the team for their work. "Will you two be taking on more tasks?"

"Ah, no sir," said Poof. "We're going back to Tao Village today. Um, best of luck with everything in Gambitville!"

"Mmn. Thank you, little one and young Sigilyph. Thank you also for your help in our town; we appreciate it." Jury inclined his cloud of energy in a sort of bow to them. Flattered, Poof and Schreber bobbed in the air in response.

"Well, I think our first tasks went very well!" Poof said after they had left the courthouse.

Schreber tucked their tokens into his scarf. "Yes, it all was a. . . a little scary, but we have a good start on being Rescuers!" He smiled at Poof, and the two shook hands proudly.


	6. Chapter 6

**PMD-E Team CanToi June Task - Building Gallows**

Damane woke early the morning he stayed with Poof and Schreber. The sun wasn't even up, but enough grey light came in through the room's window for Damane to see without using his psychic abilities.

He rolled over in bed to look at Team LoftyBalloon. Schreber was flat on his back- or as flat as the round-bodied Sigilyph could get. His wings, tail, and arms were spread out on all sides. Poof, however, was curled up on one of Schreber's wings with his strings wrapped close around him. Damane could hear him squeak faintly in his sleep.

For the first time, Damane felt guilty about how he had treated the other two Pokémon. _They've been nice to me all along,_ he thought as he watched them sleep, _and I certainly haven't been nice to them._ He knew he should apologize, but he just didn't have the courage to do it.

Instead, Damane got up as quietly as he could and tied his scarf around his antenna. As he put it on, he slipped out a few coins and left them on the bed. The least he could do was pay Team LoftyBalloon back for his half of the room.

Not wanting to face Donahue downstairs, Damane slipped the window up and flew outside. The morning air was cool, at least for the desert, and he felt refreshed- probably having dinner and a comfortable bed had something to do with that. Damane perched on top of the well in the center of town to think about what he should do. . . but he kept thinking about bed instead.

_I can't remember the last time I slept somewhere other than the ground. That mattress was certainly comfortable. Was it stuffed with feathers? Or Drif down?_

Damane shook himself and tried to focus. He could just leave town; he had a couple of points now, plus the Truthful Mirror. But leaving now would mean just going back to Tao Village with nothing else to do. . . and it would mean leaving Jury.

"Nngh." Damane bristled his feathers. _What's that old Spiritomb to me, anyhow? He's just using all of us to do his dirty work. . . but then, he __**is**__ paying us._ That thought made Damane reconsider leaving. _I might as well get another point or two since I flew all the way out here._

The Sigilyph launched himself from his perch and glided toward the edge of town. He already had a task in mind: the first job Andy had mentioned was building gallows. Damane knew that Team LoftyBalloon wouldn't have attempted it- they were both too soft, literally and figuratively- so it would be a way he could outdo Schreber. And anyway, it made more sense than hanging flyers offering forgiveness to the repentant.

_If Jury really expected the criminals to reform, he wouldn't ask for gallows, now would he?_ smirked Damane.

A place had been marked off for the gallows on the outskirts of Gambitville, and some of the materials were already there: plenty of rope, nails, and even building tools. What was missing was the necessary wood. Andy had said obtaining the wood was part of the task. . . and, of course, the wood had to be obtained legally. That wouldn't have mattered to Damane if not for Jury's ability to read minds. Ordinarily no one would have to know where Damane got his materials- but knowing his luck, Jury would pop right in his brain just to check.

_I guess that's the first order of business,_ the Sigilyph thought. Without even landing at the gallows site, he wheeled in the air and headed out into the desert. Having spent much of the past few years out in Sandsong, Damane knew of many useful locations, from oases to quarries. He remembered coming across an abandoned mining operation some five years back; there had been plenty of wood there making up the shacks, support beams, and other structures. If it were still there after all this time, Damane thought, it would be obvious that no one wanted it.

The trick was to remember just where the mine had been. That was where being a Sigilyph had its advantages. As part of a species who could follow ancient pathways effortlessly, Damane would be able to find his way anywhere he had been before, even years ago. It only took him a few moments to calculate the difference between his current location and where he had been back then; after that, Damane headed straight for the old mine.

He was pleased to find that everything was still there, and by the time the sun had passed the horizon, Damane had a nice stack of timber arranged in the spot for the gallows. It was used timber, to be sure, but the Sigilyph figured it was plenty sturdy for the task.

The actual building was harder than he had expected; Damane realized with some guilt that he missed having the help of Schreber and Poof. He worked on, though, ignoring the stares and whispers of the few townspeople who passed.

Near noon, Damane was recognized by Timmy, the Sandshrew he had rescued from the well; the kid embarrassed Damane by running over to visit and thank the Sigilyph again for saving him. Even more embarrassing, Timmy hurried home to get his mother, who showed up with a sandwich and glass jar of water for Damane. The Sandslash was nearly in tears as she too thanked Damane, and the Sigilyph was decidedly uncomfortable by the time she left. Still, the sandwich was delicious, especially as he hadn't eaten that day.

The sun had set by the time Damane finished building the three gallows requested by Andy. The Sigilyph slumped down on the platform he had made, exhausted with aching arms and wings.

_All this for one measly point,_ he thought. _If this doesn't impress Jury, nothing will._

Damane hauled himself back into the air and started to preen his feathers before deciding there was no reason to clean himself up for Jury. The Sigilyph flew slowly- and somewhat painfully- over to the courthouse and into the foyer.

By the time Damane reached the doors into the courtroom, he realized that Jury was not alone. Another, unfamiliar voice was speaking loudly from within.

"I'm tellin' ya, I ain't no criminal!"

"**_Silence!_**" That came, unmistakably, from Jury. The roar echoed with the sound of his multiple voices; however, Damane had never heard him sound that angry before. "How dare you lie to me, foolish mortal! I have read your mind!"

"You read it wrong!" argued the other voice. "That wasn't a crime, it was a-"

"**_It was a crime!_**" bellowed Jury. "You have no right to apply for my tasks! Get out of my sight!"

"I-"

"**_SILENCE! You deserve only my Hidden Power!_**"

Damane physically cringed at the ensuing crash. Apparently Jury really _had_ used Hidden Power on whoever was before him. The doors rattled on their hinges, and a layer of dust fell from the foyer wall onto Damane's feathers. There was dead silence from the courtroom, making Damane wonder if Jury had actually killed the possible criminal.

The Sigilyph's curiosity overcame his common sense, and he pulled open one of the doors enough to peer inside. A slightly singed Espeon lay on the wooden floor, motionless. Damane gave a squawk of surprise, which drew Jury's attention to him.

"_What do __**you**__ want?_" the Spiritomb shouted. Damane cast him an angry look out of his third eye.

"I finished another of your tasks," he spat. "I didn't expect to get a corpse as a reward!"

"He isn't dead," scoffed Jury. "Get him out of here, and take yourself with him, you mangy Sigilyph!"

"M-mangy?!" Damane spat. At the same time, though he would never show it, he felt like Jury had used Hidden Power on _him_. _So that's what he really thinks of me. . . . It's what everyone thinks of me, but- I wanted him to be different._

"**_Get out!_**"

Damane's hurt feelings manifested as anger, and he shouted right back at the Spiritomb. "Not until you pay me! I worked my tail feathers off building your gallows today- I didn't do it for pleasure!"

"I'll put you in those gallows!" Jury shot back. "Let's see how much _pleasure_ you get out of _that_!"

"So disagreeing with you is a crime here?" Damane flew up in the air until he was level with Jury's glowing, swirling face. "Just how many innocent Pokémon have you killed?"

"He isn't dead!" Jury snarled. "And if I say it's a crime- it _is_!" He rose up from his Odd Keystone, his green orbs flying faster around him as he loomed over Damane. "I want you out of my town and out of my business!"

"Then pay me!" Damane flew forward until he was inches away from Jury's swirling body.

Jury snarled, opening his jagged mouth. For a moment, Damane thought the Spiritomb was going to attack him, but then a token went flying from the judge's bench across the room. It pinged off the wall and landed on the ground near the felled Espeon.

"**_Now. Get. Out!_**"

Damane hovered in the air a moment, trembling with anger, then he turned away and flew down to pick up his token. He hesitated over the Espeon but ultimately decided it would indecent to leave him there. Damane scooped up the purple Pokémon and cast Jury one last look from his antenna. The Spiritomb seemed even larger than before; the spiral in his eye twisted in wild fury.

The Sigilyph left the courthouse still carrying the wounded Espeon. . . and still shaking. The Espeon _was_ breathing; his chest, covered in a black bandana, moved up and down slowly. He had no visible wounds, yet he wasn't conscious.

"Now what do I do with you?" Damane muttered. He didn't know if there were any doctors in Gambitville- or even if taking the Espeon to a doctor would be safe. Who knew what Jury would do if he realized both the Espeon and Damane were still in town?

But even Damane couldn't bring himself to abandon the Espeon. _If I leave him and he dies, it would be like __**I **__killed him!_ The Sigilyph finally directed his flight path towards the Goldglug Saloon, having nowhere else to go.

No one was in the saloon except for Donahue, the Exeggutor Damane had seen last night, and a young female Maractus perched on a bar stool. When Damane entered, Donahue looked up from the bar.

"Oh. . . welcome back, sir. You're the friend of Poof's, right?" the Cacturne asked. His eyes fell on the Espeon in Damane's arms.

"I'm not- well, I suppose." Damane flew over to the bar and lay the hurt Espeon on top. The Maractus jumped up and hurried over.

"Oh dear, what happened to him?" she cried in a melodious voice.

"He's- he was attacked," Damane muttered, looking at Donahue. "I didn't know where else to take him." The Exeggutor too had lumbered over by that time, and he peered over the Maractus's shoulder.

"Did you attack him?" Donahue asked, making Damane bristle.

"No! I- I found him." The Sigilyph looked around at the five sets of eyes watching him. "He- Jury-"

The Maractus's eyes widened. "Y-you don't have to say anything else. Papi, we need to take care of him," she went on, turning to Donahue.

"You're his daughter?" asked Damane, surprised. She was awfully pretty compared to the somewhat comical-looking Cacturne.

"Yes, I'm Savannah." She gave a little bow, then gestured to the Exeggutor behind her. "And this is Garvin. He's a regular!"

"Savannah, it could be dangerous," Donahue said, then he gave a weak smile at the pleading look the girl gave him. "But of course we will take care of him. If he had Hidden Power used on him, he will probably be sore with a headache, but he will awaken by morning."

_He sounds like they've dealt with Jury's victims before,_ Damane thought. As nervous as Savannah seemed upon hearing Jury's name, Damane decided not to bring it up.

"Do you need my help?" asked Garvin.

"Thank you, but no," Donahue said. "You should get home; it's nearly curfew."

Garvin bobbed his coconut heads. "Good night. And thank you, Mr. Sigilyph!" He gave Damane a rather goofy grin from his middle head before he left.

"Savannah, would you get our Sigilyph friend something to eat?" Donahue asked his daughter. "I'll carry this Espeon up to my room to rest."

"I'll carry him," Damane interrupted, eyeing Donahue's spikes. "But I don't need anything to eat. I should be going. Jury told me-" To his horror, his voice faltered. "He told me to leave town."

Donahue gave him a look of sympathy, which embarrassed Damane. "You are exhausted. Savannah said she saw you working on the gallows all day! Let us give you a room for tonight, and you can leave early tomorrow morning."

Damane blinked all three eyes at him. "But if Jury found out-"

"We'd already be in trouble for taking care of that Espeon!" Savannah finished. "Don't worry about it. Come on, I'll show you where Papi's room is, then we'll find a room for you. And I'll get you some dinner after that!"

The Sigilyph looked from one cactus to the other. Like Team LoftyBalloon, they were being nice to him for no real reason. . . except that he had helped the nameless Espeon. Damane knew he should leave, but his body ached, his stomach rumbled. . . and he remembered just how great that bed had felt the night before.

"All right," he finally agreed.

* * *

Damane was pacing in his room- or at least flying up and down its length- when a soft knock came on the door. The Sigilyph fluttered over to the door, expecting to find Savannah with his dinner. When he opened the door, Savannah was there all right, but her flowery hands were empty and a worried expression was on her face.

"Um, Mr. Damane. . . ." The Maractus swallowed hard. "Mayor Jury is downstairs. He wants to see you."

"J-jury?" Damane's feathers stood up on end. _He's going to kill me! He's going to kill __**all**__ of us!_ "How did he know I came here?"

Savannah shrugged and said in a resigned voice, "He knows everything."

Damane followed her downstairs where Jury was waiting for him. Donahue was huddled back behind the bar, staring at the chair where Jury's Odd Keystone rested. Marshal Andy stood beside the chair.

_They're probably going to hang me on my own gallows,_ Damane thought. _Good thing I don't have a neck. . . ._

"Well, here I am," he growled. He looked back at Savannah, who had gone to join her father behind the bar. The frightened cacti didn't deserve Jury's wrath, Damane decided. "This was my idea," the Sigilyph added. "It's not their fault."

When Damane finally looked directly at Jury, he was surprised to see that the Spiritomb didn't look angry. In fact, there was little expression at all on his glowing face.

"Andy, you may go," Jury said to his marshal. "Report to me in the morning."

"Yes sir!" Andy actually saluted before he lumbered out. Jury then looked back at Damane.

"What did you do with that Espeon?"

Damane tensed, wondering if his answer would get the cacti into even more trouble. But then, Jury would know if he lied. . . .

"He's here. I- didn't know where else to take him."

"Hmm. I'm surprised at you." Jury's yellow eyes gleamed. "I thought you didn't care about other Pokémon."

"I couldn't just leave him out in the desert or something!" snapped Damane. "Look, what do you want? If you're going to punish me, get it over with!"

"I'm not here to punish you, Damane. I want to talk to you." The Sigilyph stared at him, and Jury looked back, the spiral in his right eye swirling. Then Jury broke the eye contact and turned to the cacti.

"Could you bring us some dinner, Donahue? Damane, you haven't eaten, have you?" When the Sigilyph shook his antenna in the negative, Jury gestured a swirl of energy towards the other chair at his table. "Come sit with me."

Damane collapsed into the chair as Donahue brought them plates.

"Wh-what would you like to drink?" the Cacturne asked them.

"Whis- water," Damane told him, deciding that he would be better off in full command of his faculties. _No alcohol tonight. . . ._

"The same," added Jury.

Once Donahue brought their water and food- the same rice and beans as the previous night- Damane ate slowly. He was certainly hungry, but he was too nervous to concentrate on his meal- especially once Jury started eating. The Spiritomb held a fork in one of his energy tendrils, using it to bring the food to his wide mouth. He seemed just to absorb the meal though rather than actually eat it.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" Damane mumbled. He took a drink of water so he wouldn't have to look at Jury.

Jury set down his fork to answer. "I am sorry for the way I behaved towards you today."

Damane nearly dropped his glass. "You are?" he managed to ask after he had set it down.

Jury inclined his body in a nod. "You see, I have many different spirits inside of me- some less agreeable than others. When I am very angry, I. . . lose control of my personality, and the darker spirits manifest themselves." The Spiritomb blinked his wide yellow eyes. "I felt I owed you an explanation."

Damane had to think about all this. "But. . . they're all still _you_, aren't they? So you meant what you said to me nevertheless."

Jury's mouth closed, and he studied the Sigilyph for a moment before answering. "Yes, I suppose so. But, Damane, I'm sure not everything you've thought about _me_ is flattering either." The corners of his mouth seemed to be trying not to smile.

"No, it isn't!" snapped Damane. "I don't like being called mangy!"

"Oh, I meant before that." Jury's energy swirled around his face as he began eating again. "And I apologize for saying that particular comment out loud."

"Well, I guess it's the truth," grumbled the Sigilyph. He pushed his plate away and stared at the table.

"Yes, it is. But your lack of personal grooming does not make you unattractive, just. . . less attractive than you could be."

Jury finished his meal, ignoring Damane's awkward embarrassment, then he called Donahue over to the table.

"Yes, sir?" the Cacturne asked. If plants could sweat, he would be doing so.

"Thank you for the meal; please add it to my account. And. . . you'll see that the Espeon is treated?"

"Ah. . . yes sir." The confused Donahue gave Damane a helpless look. "When he is well, should I tell him to leave town?"

"No, no. . . . I did tell Andy to start that rehabilitation program, after all. The Espeon may stay if he wishes, and if he promises to reform."

"Um, I'll let him know." After Donahue had cleared the table- rather quickly, Damane noticed- Jury turned back to the Sigilyph.

"We still have more to discuss, but I prefer to do so in private. Would you mind carrying my Keystone up to your room?"

Damane felt his face turn hot under his feathers. "Uh. . . whatever." He got up and fluttered over to Jury's chair, then took the Odd Keystone carefully in his hands. It felt strangely warm, although Jury's insubstantial body gave off no heat.

"You can't get around by yourself?" Damane asked, a bit snidely, to distract himself from the strange situation. As he flew up the stairs, Jury drifted in front of him, moving along with his Keystone.

"It requires a huge exertion of energy to move my own Keystone," said the Spiritomb, "and I can only function for a short distance away from it. Normally, Andy carries me the rare times I must leave the courthouse."

Once in Damane's room, the Sigilyph looked around for some place to set his burden down. The single chair looked rickety, so he ended up putting Jury down on the floor beside the bed.

"You mean you live in the courthouse?" Damane flew over to the window, a few feet away from Jury.

"Yes." The Spiritomb blinked his glowing eyes, as if he thought the question odd. "I have no family, and I require little nourishment, so there's no reason for me to leave."

Damane, for the first time, felt a little sorry for Jury. The Sigilyph had no family either, but that didn't mean he had to spend his days sitting in a dusty room! He didn't want the Spiritomb to sense any sympathy from him, though.

"What else do we have to 'discuss'?" he asked instead. "Your time is valuable, I'm sure."

"That attitude of yours, for one." Jury drifted a little closer. "I know you've resented my authority from the first time we met. . . but you still obeyed me. Why?"

"You aren't _perfect_ at reading minds." Damane glared at him. "I never resented your authority- it's _your_ town, and I don't have to live here. I obeyed you to get my points, obviously."

The Spiritomb chuckled, which didn't help Damane's mood. "All right, perhaps it was not my authority you resented. Why, then, are you so hostile to me, Damane? Even before our fight. . . ."

Damane shut his mouth, unable to answer. Finally, he said, "You make assumptions about everyone, even before you read our minds. And you- my scar. . . ." He trailed off, ruffling his feathers in frustration. _I can't even talk right around him!_

"I apologized for that," Jury said in a low voice. "I was curious about you, and I went too far in my exploration of your mind. You still resent me for that?"

"Yes!" Damane spat. "Yes, I do! And- and for making me feel so comfortable first!" He turned away from the Spiritomb to look out the window, hunching his wings forward over his body. "When you were in my mind, it felt like. . . like you belonged there."

Jury was silent for some time, then he said, "I know." Damane's feathers rustled as he shuddered, and Jury went on, "Like I said then, you had never been close to anyone. . . and after a while, any contact is welcome. I feel the same way after I've slept a very long time." He gave a long sigh, with a sound like wind scattering sand in the desert.

Damane finally found his voice again, and he risked a look back at Jury with his antenna. "Don't tell me you get lonely, with all those spirits inside you."

"They aren't very good company for each other when they're always bickering." Jury's green orbs glowed a bit brighter, perhaps in humor. "I have interviewed many very interesting Pokémon, but you were the first to crave me."

"C-crave you?" Damane spun around to face the Spiritomb. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Jury's tendrils of energy contracted slightly. "That you wanted to be in contact with me." He studied the Sigilyph's angry face. "It isn't such a sign of weakness, you know, to need others. Without my marshals and the guild members who have done my tasks, I would not be able to carry out my duties as mayor."

"But it _is _a weakness," retorted Damane. "If you had ever cared for somebody and lost them, you'd know that."

"Hmm." Jury's eyes flicked up to Damane's scar, just for an instant. "I have not, not in the way you mean. But I would expect that the- let's say, _gambit_ would be worth the risk."

"How so?"

Jury half-closed his eyes, mostly obscuring the spiral in the right one. "If I had the chance to ease my loneliness with someone. . . I would take it. Even against the chance that I would lose that Pokémon in the end. When you are as old as I, you will understand how desperate one can become."

"I won't live that long," muttered Damane, but he was thinking of Jury's desperation.

"No, I suppose not. But you may become a ghost. . . perhaps even a Spiritomb." Jury's eyes gleamed, and he opened his mouth in a jagged smile.

"Yeah, and then I'll come back here and the spirits in us can philosophize together." Damane rolled his antenna eye, but he smiled a little himself.

"I would like for you to come back." The smiles of both Pokémon faded, and Jury added, "You do not have to leave now, either. The part of me who told you to leave town was being contrary."

"He was right though, at least after you gave me my last token. I've finished your tasks, after all," said Damane.

"Yes, I suppose there are other jobs awaiting you elsewhere. But first, could you do one more thing for me?"

Damane's feathers rustled. "Wh-what?"

"Take me back over to the courthouse. If Andy found me in your room in the morning, there would be all kinds of talk."

This time, Damane's whole body flushed under his feathers. "Yeah, and I couldn't sleep with you glowing all night, anyway."

Damane carried Jury out his window, not wanting Donahue or Savannah to see him ferrying the mayor around. Back in the courtroom, he placed the Odd Keystone in its customary place on the judge's bench then hovered before it.

"I'll go back to Tao Village first thing in the morning." Damane hesitated, trying to think of something else to say. "Uh. . . good luck with revitalizing Gambitville."

"Thank you, Damane." Jury leaned forward, and several of his green orbs moved closer to Damane. "Do come back to see the changes."

"I. . . I will." Damane watched the orbs, foolishly wishing for them to possess him again. "This dusty old town may surprise me yet."

"So may this dusty old Spiritomb." One orb darted forward and tapped the tip of Damane's antenna, then Jury drew them all back in towards himself. "Goodbye, Damane."

Damane didn't trust his voice to say anything. He gave Jury a curt bob in the air before turning and escaping into the dark night outside the courthouse.


	7. Chapter 7

**PMD-E Team LoftyBalloon and CanToi July Tasks - Acting as Security, Renovation Help, Evicting**

"So they named this place after a _fish_." Damane the Sigilyph looked around Alomamola City with disdain.

"What's wrong with that?" Poof looked over at the Sigilyph with a curious squeak. Damane turned his look of scorn on the Drifloon.

"I hate water."

Poof looked at Damane's feathers, still slightly dusty with the sand of Gambitville. "Oh. . . I might have guessed."

Poof's partner- the other half of Team LoftyBalloon- fluttered in the air. He too was a Sigilyph, but he was a lot less worn-looking than Damane, the sole member of Team CanToi.

"Why did you decide to work with us, Damane?" the sleeker Sigilyph, named Schreber, asked. "I. . . well, I thought you didn't like us!"

"I don't, especially." Damane adjusted the tattered scarf he wore around the base of his antenna. "But I learned something in Gambitville: these tasks are easier if we work together."

"You sure you aren't just a little lonely?" Poof hid a smile across his yellow X as the scarred Sigilyph bristled.

"If I were, I'd pick better company than you, Squeaky. Now what about the tasks for this place?"

"Here. . . ." Schreber pulled out a flyer he had tucked in the scarf he kept tied to his tail. "That Royce fellow has a big list."

Damane took the list and skimmed it with his third eye. "Let's see. . . . We can help with construction- _again_, help with security. . . er, lay off a bunch of fish, or evict people. Then there's a lot of jobs at the casino."

"The one over there?" Schreber looked nervously at the King's Rock Casino. "It. . . it looks awfully crowded."

For once, Damane had to agree with the younger Sigilyph on something. Schreber was shy around new Pokémon, and Damane just didn't like them.

"We can stick to the first tasks for now."

Poof squeaked in agreement and floated over Damane's shoulder to peek at the list. "I don't know about this security job; it says we have to look tough!"

Damane looked from one member of Team LoftyBalloon to the other. Schreber was too timid and glossy to look very threatening, and Poof. . . well, he was a small purple balloon with fluff on his head. Not too scary, but Damane wasn't about to turn down a task he knew he could do.

"I can be tough enough for all three of us," he growled. "Let's go."

* * *

Damane and Poof met Royce's money handlers at the front doors of the casino, and Schreber joined the little patrol a few yards away, apart from the crowds. The money handlers were all smaller Pokémon- mostly Sentrets and Patrats- so Damane could see why they needed some protection. In fact, several seedy-looking Pokémon sidled closer to the patrol as they went from business to business. However, when Damane turned and growled at them, squinting his third eye under its formidable scar, the would-be thieves scurried off.

But even with six eyes between them, the two Sigilyphs couldn't see everything. Poof was lagging a bit behind the group when he noticed a Bellsprout toddling along beside the others. The Drifloon smiled at first- he thought Bellsprouts were cute! However, his little mouth dropped open when he saw the grass- and poison-type sneak a vine into the bank bag one of the Sentrets was carrying.

Damane was too far away to help; by the time Poof got his attention, the Bellsprout would be long gone. There was only one thing to do, the Drifloon decided as he inhaled, inflating his round body to twice its normal size.

"**_POOF!_**" he shouted at the Bellsprout as he performed one of his four moves- Body Slam. Normally Body Slam didn't do much to Poof's opponents, as the light-weight balloon tended to just bounce off other Pokémon. This time, though, the Bellsprout's spindly root legs gave way upon impact, and the plant Pokémon found himself sitting down hard, his vines empty of money.

The rest of the patrol turned in surprise as the startled Bellsprout stumbled to his feet. "I-I'm sorry- s-sir!"

"Just don't do it again!" Poof deflated, literally, and shooed the Bellsprout away with his strings. "Now get out of here!"

As the patrol started moving again, Damane hung back until Poof caught up with him.

"Not bad, Squeaky," the weathered Sigilyph complemented grudgingly. "Didn't know you were a tough guy."

Secretly proud of himself, Poof shrugged his strings. "I can fight if I have to."

* * *

After the money handlers finished their collections, Teams CanToi and LoftyBalloon escorted them back to the casino then looked at their list of tasks.

"We are _not_ going to deal with the 'Qwilfish Patrol,'" Damane muttered.

"Why? Are you scared of Qwilfish?" Schreber asked the question innocently enough, but Damane snarled at him.

"Of course not! I don't care about the fish- I told you already, it's _water_ I don't like." He shuddered, ruffling his feathers. "I hate getting wet. Saving that Sandshrew in Gambitville got me soaked enough to last for a long time."

"Neither of us are good swimmers," Poof admitted. "I guess we should just skip that task. We could help with the construction in the slums, though! I'd love to help out the poor Pokémon who live there."

"Oh, me too!" Schreber twittered. "Everyone deserves a safe home!"

Damane, who had been homeless for at least half his life, gave the younger Sigilyph a dirty look, but he didn't feel like getting into his past.

"Fine. . . let's go get started," he muttered.

The three Pokémon made their way to one of the slums on the edge of Alomamola. They found several Pokémon working on a small tenement building. The group was making an noble effort, but like the money handlers, they were all small. An Exeggcute was directing the group- Damane cringed as he thought about what one small accident could do to this overseer- while some Litwicks and Vanillites were trying to put new glass in a broken window. The strongest Pokémon there was a lone Vanillish. He didn't look too bright, but Damane thought the vacant expression on his face could be standard issue for the species.

"You're kidding me," Damane muttered to Poof and Schreber. "Eggs, candles, and ice cream cones? If a fire breaks out, nothing's gonna be left but a puddle and breakfast!"

"Shh!" Poof shushed him. "At least they're trying. There are a lot of greedy people in this city, so it's good to see some kind souls."

"Goody Two-Strings!" countered Damane. After "Squeaky," it was his favorite name for Poof.

Teams LoftyBalloon and CanToi joined the renovation group, who accepted their aid gladly. Damane shooed away the cluster of Pokémon at the window and lifted the pane in himself. While he held the glass in place, Poof and the Exeggcute called out instructions to help the others secure it. As Schreber placed each piece of the wood window frame, the Vanillites and Litwicks nailed it into place. In a few minutes, they had the window finished.

"Thanks, you guys," said one of the Exeggcute's eggs. "The Vanillites kept getting smudges on the glass, and the Litwicks were dripping wax on the frames! I thought we'd never get it up!"

"Is there anything else we can do?" Schreber offered as Damane closed his third eye in frustration. _We've already done enough for our point!_

"Well," mused the Exeggcute, "now that you mention it. . . ."

By mid-afternoon, the teams had helped their new friends replace two more broken windows, and Poof had led some of Litwicks in cleaning up the job site. The Vanillish was happy to toss a bag of trash- full of broken glass, nails, and other debris- in a dumpster.

"Having those sharp pieces cleaned up will keep you all safer!" Poof squeaked. "I wish we could stay longer, but we have to help with some other tasks."

"Thanks again! You were a big help," the Exeggcute praised them. "We'll be out here until we get this place all fixed up, so come see us before you leave town!" The other Pokémon waved a cheerful goodbye as the two teams left.

* * *

"Eviction time!" Damane declared as the three flew back into town. He had been looking forward to this task all day! Nothing like making some snooty Pokémon follow the same rules the rest of them did.

"Do we have to do this?" Schreber asked with a sad expression in his three eyes. "I don't want to kick Pokémon out of their homes. . . ."

"But they did break the law," Poof pointed out. "They took out loans they couldn't pay back, because they gambled all their money away!"

"B-but Royce said some of them had children. . . ."

Damane gave a sigh that sounded almost like a growl. "Fine! We'll evict one who doesn't have kids. Let's just get it done so we can get our points."

After the group visited the bank to get a list of evictions, they chose an unmarried Umbreon as their target. Schreber still wasn't happy about the task, and he hung back when Damane banged on the door of the Umbreon's penthouse apartment. It took a lot of arguing on Poof's part- and a bit of threatening on Damane's- but they finally got the Umbreon kicked out and the apartment secured for the bank. The Umbreon left declaring that he would sue the bank for everything they had, but that, Damane scoffed, wasn't the teams' problem.

* * *

"Well, we got a lot done today," Poof said after the three Pokémon had collected the points they earned. "We'll have to go to the casino to do the rest of the tasks. Sorry, Schreber," he added to his teammate.

"It's okay," the young Sigilyph sighed. "Oh, but don't we get to pick out some artifacts now that we've done several tasks?"

"Hey, that's right." Damane perked up at the thought of getting a prize. "Let's go see what that Royce guy has to offer."

They had to go into the casino after all to get the artifacts, but Schreber was fine as long as he kept his eyes down and ignored the other patrons. Royce had left the artifacts with one of his cashiers, a young Meowth, and she brought out the prizes for them to examine.

"I guess you two should pick first," Damane told Poof. "I got an artifact in Gambitville, and you didn't. . . ." He thought of his precious Truthful Mirror; no other item could compare to it in his mind.

"Wow, thanks! That's nice of you," squeaked Poof.

"Yeah, well, don't tell anyone," Damane muttered.

"You pick, Poof," Schreber urged the Drifloon. "You did more work than I did."

"Wellllll. . . ." The Drifloon studied each item, then he selected a Self-Defense Ring from the box. "I'll take this."

"Ooh, that's pretty!" said Schreber, although it was a bit gaudy for Damane's taste.

"I'm glad you like it. . . because it's for you!" Poof put the ring on the middle finger of Schreber's pitchfork-shaped right hand. "Since you only know one offensive move, this will help you out. It'll poison someone if you stick them with it!"

"Aww, Poof. . . you didn't have to give your prize to me! But thank you. . . ." The Sigilyph gave Poof a big hug, while Damane rolled all three eyes.

"You two are embarrassing." He pushed past them to choose his own artifact. "I guess I'll take this. . . ." He pulled out an Ancient Scroll and tucked it away in his scarf. Damane didn't plan on using it- he was pretty confident in his own attacks- but maybe the scroll would be worth something.

"Let's get out of here," the scarred Sigilyph said to the other two Pokémon. "We can do some more tasks tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8

**PMD-E Team CanToi August Tasks - Confessing Sins & Stopping Extortion**

"Confess my sins. . . . Confess my sins!" Damane spat in indignation as he flew out of Alomamola City towards the cathedral of the Order of the Sun. "To assume that I'm sinful because I'm a Rogue- and to assume they're better than I am, too! Pah!"

Despite his grumbling, the ragged Sigilyph didn't dawdle on his flight. He was a Pokémon on a mission- namely not to let his friends and rivals, Team LoftyBalloon, get more points than he had. Damane didn't care much about competing with LoftyBalloon's leader, Poof the Drifloon. . . but darned if he was going to let the handsome young Sigilyph Schreber outperform him! Damane sailed over the edge of Cathedral Drop, bordering Alomamola Bay, and wheeled in the air to face the cathedral.

Damane flew into the cathedral and hovered in the air, looking around. The elaborate structure was carved right into the cliff face, and Damane had to admit the Order of the Sun had good taste. Still, elegance wasn't Damane's style, and he felt quite out of place. His feathers were tattered and dusty, a stark contrast to the few clean and well-groomed Pokémon who moved about the cathedral.

With his third eye, Damane spotted what must be confessionals over in the left back corner of the cathedral. He hadn't been in many churches, but he figured the wooden boxes couldn't be much else. He fluttered over and regarded the nearest confessional skeptically.

_I really don't want to do this,_ the Sigilyph thought. He bristled his feathers, raising a little puff of dust, then he entered the empty side of the confessional.

Damane had barely settled himself inside, perching his remnant legs on the knee pad, when the Pokémon on the other side spoke.

"Greetings, my child."

"Agh!" squawked Damane in surprise, then he hesitated. That voice sounded awfully squeaky. . . .

The Sigilyph squinted through the screen separating him from the priest on the other side. Sure enough, a slight purple sheen was visible through the carvings in the wood.

"Poof?" Damane asked suspiciously. "Is that you?"

"Uh. . . Poof? No, my name is Evion."

A little embarrassed, Damane persisted, "But. . . you're a Drifloon, right?"

"Yes. . . um, why? Is that important?" The Drifloon wasn't being antagonistic; he sounded genuinely curious. He also sounded pretty young.

_What a waste, a young Pokémon giving up everything to sit around in a box all day!_ Damane rolled his third eye- but at least he wouldn't be confessing to that little squeak Poof!

"No. . . I just thought you were someone I knew." Damane sighed. _Might as well get this over with. _"How does this work? I just tell you something I did wrong, and I get a point?"

"Oh, is that why you're here? Well, Archbishop Gabriel will give you your point. . . but yes, you confess to me. But it's not just like telling me you were bad. The whole point is to confess something that is causing you pain and guilt. I can then offer you peace."

"I don't buy it," Damane blurted out. "No offense, but why would telling _you_ make me feel better about anything? You don't know me, so what good does it do?"

"Well, that's part of why it helps." Evion was remarkably patient with him. "You can tell me anything, including things you're ashamed to share with those you know. Also, we are sworn to secrecy. Whatever you tell me will not go beyond these walls. And if we should happen to meet again, I won't speak of it even to you, unless you want me to."

Damane was silent for a while, thinking about this. There _was_ one thing that weighed on his mind, something he would never admit to Poof or Schreber. In fact, he thought he would never admit it to _anyone_- but it couldn't hurt telling this Drifloon stranger. _Telling him won't make me __**feel**__ any better. . . but maybe he can give me some advice?_

_Yeah right,_ another part of him sneered. _What kind of advice can a young __**priest**__ give me about. . . him?_

Probably nothing. . . but it would get Damane a point.

"Fine," he muttered. "What is it I'm supposed to say? 'Forgive me, Drifloon, for I have sinned'?"

"Uh, that's not necessary." Evion's squeaky voice broke as he giggled a little. Not very priest-like, but it made Damane warm up to him a little. "Just tell me what you want to tell me."

"Okay. Well." Damane fidgeting, looking down at his tail feathers spread around him. "I. . . ." He gritted his teeth and growled from between them, "I'm in love."

". . . Oh," squeaked Evion when Damane didn't go on. "Um, I. . . don't think that's a sin."

Damane glared at the bits of purple he could see through the screen. "Well, you said to tell you something I was ashamed about!"

"Okay, okay. . . ." Evion appeared to be floundering. "Uh, why are you ashamed about it? You're not a priest too, are you?"

The Sigilyph gave a loud caw of laughter. "Of course not! It's because I don't even _like_ anyone. I hate other Pokémon. Having feelings for one, it's- it's embarrassing!"

"I see." Evion did sound a bit more understanding. "Well, it really isn't anything you need to be ashamed of. We all have irrational feelings from time to time, and no one even has to know. . . unless of course, you are already in a relationship with this Pokémon."

Damane laughed again, this time without much conviction. "Yeah, right. That's impossible."

"Why?" By now, Evion sounded just plain curious, and Damane smiled grimly to himself. _I guess his life __**is**__ pretty boring. Some drama should liven things up._

"It's just impossible, is all. He- he drives me crazy! We fight a lot, and he's arrogant and full of himself, and-" Damane tried to rein himself in. "And frankly, he has every right to be. He's far more powerful than I am, and. . . and I'm not good enough for him." The Sigilyph's wings drooped as this realization sunk in. He had never really figured that out before, but it was true: a scraggly nobody like him would never be good enough. . . .

"That's not true." Evion's squeaky voice broke into Damane's thoughts, and the Sigilyph cast a skeptical eye towards the screen.

"How would _you_ know? You don't know either of us."

"No," the Drifloon said, "but all Pokémon are equal in the Creator's sight. No matter how powerful this Pokémon is, he is no better than you inside." Evion paused then added, "But that doesn't mean he won't drive you crazy sometimes."

"That's the truth," muttered Damane wryly. "Well, either way, it doesn't matter. I can't ever tell him. I couldn't be with him even if I _did_ tell him."

Evion spoke quietly. "Are you sure about that? Or do you just tell yourself that to make the decision easy?"

Damane couldn't reply to that.

"I've gotta get started on the next task now," he mumbled. "But. . . thank you for listening to me."

"You're welcome." The Drifloon leaned forward, filling the screen with purple, and Damane saw one shiny eye peering through a gap in the wood. A tuft of white fluff poked through another. "And think about what I said. If you have a chance to be happy, you should take it."

* * *

Damane left the cathedral as quickly as he could and flew back to Alomamola City. The second Rogues' task from Archbishop Gabriel was much less troublesome to him: all he had to do was keep the Alomamola security force from taking Order members' tithes.

The scrappy Sigilyph patrolled the streets of the city for a while, watching out for Order members. They were easy enough to spot, as they all wore Aureola Collars. _Those look really uncomfortable,_ Damane thought. Gabriel had invited him to join the Order of the Sun himself, and while Damane wasn't religious, he was considering the offer just for the point it would bring. _But I wonder if I __**have**__ to wear a collar. . . ._

Damane was distracted from his thoughts when he noticed a meek-looking "S" Unown wearing a tiny collar under her single eye. She was surrounded by three much-larger Bronzors wearing security force gear.

"You can still give the church your ten percent," one of them was intoning to the Unown with a sneer. "It'll just be ten percent of what's left after you pay us your dues!"

"B-but. . . I don't even go to the casino! How can I owe any dues?" the Unown asked. Her voice had the eerie, echoing quality common to her species, but it did nothing to discourage her harassers.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" the leader Bronzor challenged. "Just hand it over, Snaky, and there won't be any trouble. Unless you think your Hidden Power can overpower us!" The other Bronzors laughed at the typical joke about the Unowns' single move. The poor Unown drew her "arms" inward, making a nervous squeak.

"Leave her alone," Damane snapped at the Bronzors as he approached. The leader looked at him and chuckled again.

"What, did your momma's antenna fall off?" The Bronzor nudged the Unown, making her wobble. "A bit crooked, ain't she?"

"Come on," Damane said to the Unown. She just looked up at him and trembled, too frightened to move. The Sigilyph sighed and scooped her up in one arm.

"Awww, how sweet!" a different Bronzor sneered. "Siggy's got a thing for Snaky!"

"Oh good grief," Damane groaned. He started to fly off with the Unown, but the three Bronzors blocked his path.

"You ain't going anywhere!" the leader boomed. "Not with our money! Especially since _you_ haven't paid your dues either!"

"You're really going to try to stop me?" Damane asked. He had hoped he wouldn't have to get his wings dirty, but. . . .

The three Bronzors drew in closer, and the leader gave him a hard push. "Hand it over _now_!"

Damane closed all three of his eyes, preparing himself. He forgot all about the Unown; by now, it was personal. The Sigilyph's body began to shake slightly as he drew in all his psychic powers, pulling in as well energy from the Pokémon around him. When his powers had built up, his antenna eye flew open, its icy blue glare focused on the lead Bronzor.

All three Bronzors drew back a little, but before they could react further, Damane used his move Psychic on them. Purple and pink beams of energy shot out of his third eye, blasting all three of them. The Bronzors fell over on their backs, rattling.

Damane finally remembered the Unown under his arm, and he put her back into the air.

"Now, get out of here before they wake up."

"Um. . . thank you," she said in her eerie voice. "My. . . my name is Sigma."

"Uh. . . I'm Damane," he muttered. "Now go on. . . . It's a long way back to the cathedral for a little Unown."

Sigma bobbed in the air and darted off, her tiny collar ruffling in the breeze.

Damane surveyed the three fainted Bronzors and couldn't help feeling rather proud of himself. His mind didn't even drift once to Evion and his advice as Damane flew off to find Poof and Schreber.


	9. Chapter 9

**PMD-E Team Lofty Balloon August Tasks - Virtuous Stories & Healing the Traveler**

"Today, we're going to tell you about how we met and why we became Rescuers!" Poof the Drifloon squeaked to the crowd of young Pokémon in front of him. He and his team partner Schreber were in the Order of the Sun's cathedral telling "virtuous stories" to the Order's children who lived there.

"Y-yes," stammered Schreber, a timid Sigilyph. He was naturally shy and so was very nervous about being the center of attention. Fortunately, Poof had agreed to do most of the talking, and the children seemed happy enough to focus on the friendly Drifloon.

"I grew up in the Windswept Woods," Poof told the little ones, "where there are lots of other Drifloons and Drifblims. You may have heard some Pokémon say bad things about us Drifloons- like that we take kids to the underworld! That's just not true! But some Pokémon still pick on Drifloons because of those rumors. Well, one day, I decided that I wanted to evolve into a big, strong Drifblim so that I could protect all the Drifloons- and other little Pokémon!- from bullies.

"I didn't want to leave home and my family, but I really want to evolve, so I decided to join the Rescuers to gain experience." Remembering that Archbishop Gabriel didn't want them to encourage the young Pokémon to leave the cathedral, Poof added quickly, "But I still go home to visit a lot! I. . . I really miss my mom, and it's hard being away from her, even though I'm all grown up now. You little guys shouldn't even think about leaving home until you're grown up too!

"Anyway, I met my best friend Schreber soon after I started travelling to Tao Village." Poof turned to the quiet Sigilyph. "Schreber, do you want to tell them how we met?"

"Uh. . . ." Schreber looked like he most certainly did _not_, but he managed to stammer, "W-well. . . Poof hurt himself, and I stopped to help him."

When Poof realized his friend wasn't going to elaborate further, the Drifloon added, "Yes, I had scratched one of my hands on some thorns." He held up the puffy, heart-shaped hand on the end of one string. "It wasn't too serious, but it really hurt! Schreber is studying to be a doctor, so he knew just what herbs to put on the cut to make it stop hurting!"

Schreber finally warmed up a little and went on, "After that, I decided to go with Poof and be a Rescuer too! I like helping others, and I want to learn a lot more about medicine and science. I can do both at the same time now."

Poof gave Schreber an encouraging squeak. "And that's why we're both Rescuers. It's not about the points or items we can earn. . . . What's more important are the _other_ things we gain: knowledge and experience! And best of all, we get to help out other Pokémon, even if it's just in a small way."

* * *

After their talk to the children, Poof and Schreber moved to another part of the cathedral. . . the sick ward. It was empty for the most part, but one of the few patients was very ill indeed.

Schreber looked sadly at the unconscious Butterfree who lay in one of the sick beds. "How bad is it?" the Sigilyph asked the Audino who was nursing him.

"Very bad, I'm afraid," she murmured. She crouched down beside the sick bug-type, her blue eyes worried. "Archbishop Gabriel has told you the nature of the illness, hasn't he?"

"Yes," Poof replied. "We know all about the plants needed for the cure- and we're gonna get it for you!" He gave an encouraging squeak. "One of our friends is a water-type who'll go dive for them- oh, here he is!"

A young Buizel had entered the ward. He looked around nervously but relaxed when he spotted Poof and Schreber.

"You're Colin's friends, right? I'm Nico," he introduced himself.

"Yes! I'm Poof, and this is Schreber," Poof explained. Nico was on Team Fresh Mint, along with a shiny Drifloon named Colin. Poof had never met the Buizel before, but he had been kind enough to volunteer his help in curing the Butterfree, once Colin had asked him on Poof's behalf.

"So what do you need me to do?" Nico swished his two tails from side to side.

"We need these plants. . . ." Poof handed Nico a list obtained from Archbishop Gabriel. "The Archbishop said they grow in the bay, about two miles out from here. I know it's a long way, but. . . could you please get them for us?"

"Please!" the Audino put in, looking up at Nico sweetly. "It's the only way I can cure this poor Butterfree!"

Nico blushed a little and rubbed the back of his head with one paw. "Sure, I'll help. Just wait here!" He started to leave then turned back to caution, "And be patient! It may take me a little while to find them!"

Poof and Schreber stayed at the Butterfree's side while Nico was gone. While they watched over the bug-type, the Audino healer tended her few other patients, none of whom was as ill as the Butterfree. After an hour had passed, Poof started to worry that Nico wouldn't be able to find the plants, but the Buizel returned soon after that.

"Here you go! No trouble at all!" he bragged, holding up the wet plants in one paw. The Audino beamed and took the plants from him, then she gave the Buizel a big hug even though his fur was still damp.

"Oh thank you! I'll go prepare the medicine right away." She hurried off, calling over her shoulder, "Come back tomorrow, all three of you! The patient should be conscious by then, and I'm sure he'll want to thank you too!"

Nico was still blushing as he left the cathedral with Poof and Schreber.

"Thanks again," Poof squeaked, shaking hands with the Buizel. "I know you're a Merchant, so it was nice of you to help us Rescuers!"

"It was nothing," Nico grinned. "Anything for a friend of Colin's!"

* * *

END - PMD-E closed before I could do any more tasks.


End file.
